


The Viking's Throne

by BlueBlade77



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dragons, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Infidelity, Multi, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, The Golden Trio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:13:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 203,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27882794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBlade77/pseuds/BlueBlade77
Summary: Hermione Granger, Charlie Weasley and Oliver Wood lived vastly different lives. However, with the disaster that was the Battle of Hogwarts, they will find their paths crossing.Add to that a rare dragon egg and very, very ancient magics at play, their paths soon became entangled.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley, Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley/Oliver Wood, Hermione Granger/Oliver Wood, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 416
Kudos: 205
Collections: Oh My God They Were Soulmates





	1. The Battle of Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfic. I'm very new to the site, only reading through as a guest before I decided to write. I hope you all stay tuned for this story and please comment and give feedback. It will be much appreciated. Thanks!!

Oliver Wood stared at the unimpressive stain on the coffee table in this shabby safe house he and his teammates from Puddlemere United hid in. His mind reeled back from the last three weeks. They were supposed to be safe in that little wizarding town in the outskirts of Godric’s Hollow, when giants – bleeding fifteen feet tall monstrosities – walked through and ransacked the village with Death bleeding Eaters flying through the air and snatchers every freaking where. They escaped by the skin of their teeth, and he knew it.

A sigh escaped him and Oliver ran his hand down his face. To say that he was stressed was a gross understatement. Hell, the entire Wizarding World was stressed. The raids, the running, the corruption in the bleeding Ministry were all culminating to a battle. A battle that rested on the shoulders of one seventeen-year-old boy. Barely a man, and yet forced to the forefront of this war from the time he was old enough to attend Hogwarts.

“Alright there, Wood?”

Oliver looked up to see Logan Castor eyeing him worriedly before handing him a cup of tea. Logan was one of their chasers in the team, a Muggleborn and a great friend.

“Am a’right,” said Oliver. “Just thinkin’.”

“Dangerous, that,” Keon Donovan quipped from his seat by the fire and Oliver gave him the finger, making him laugh. Keon was another chaser, another Muggleborn, and another great friend… well, some of the time. The rest of it, the bearded, redheaded lumberjack of a man was the cheekiest of the lot.

“Heard anything from the wireless?” Oliver asked instead.

“Nah, Priest is still tinkering with it,” Logan said and sat at the armchair adjacent to the two, clutching his leather jacket on his lap. “Hey, er… I er… I just wanted to say thank you.”

“What for?” Oliver asked. The man was turning pink before him.

“For saving my life back there.” Logan scratched the back of his black, spiked up hair. “For going with us on the run, even though you didn’t need to.”

“Aye, Ollie,” said Keon, suddenly sober. “I appreciate it too, man.”

Oliver shook his head as he swallowed his tea. “The Woods are the biggest blood traitors there are, second only tae the Weasleys. Me father an’ grandfather used tae hide Muggleborns and snatch ‘em right under Death Eaters’ noses, even in the First War.” He smirked, a sense of pride filling his chest. “It’s what we do. It’s what’s in me blood. I surely won’t disappoint them noo.”

Still, Logan smiled gratefully and gave him a nod.

From the kitchen came the sound of running feet and the door was suddenly filled with the two more people – the jet black haired Damian Lazarev and the silver haired Illium Priestley.

“It’s time,” Illium said, his silver eyes wide. “Lightning has struck. Dumbledore’s Army and the Order are calling everyone to arms.”

Oliver stood up and so did Logan and Keon. “Potter’s arrived?”

“Hell yeah,” Damian smiled lopsidedly, dimples coming into play. “At Hogwarts. That’s where the stand will be.”

“Let’s go, lads!” Oliver shouted. Without a second thought, he grabbed a handful of floo powder and shouted, “The Hog’s Head Inn!”

***

“Where were you? I thought you’d never show up!”

If it was not for the raging battle all around them, Oliver would have raised an eyebrow at the fact that his old friend, _Percy bleeding Weasley_ was teasing him.

“What? Nargle’s got your tongue?” Percy laughed.

Oliver sent an _Impedimenta_ and a body bind to the two Death Eaters he was facing and Stunned them for good measure before turning to the redhead. “What the hell is a nargle?”

“No bloody clue,” said Percy and shouted, “ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ” before running around the corner to find more Death Eaters.

Oliver had to laugh to himself before going the opposite direction. Somewhere ahead, an explosion sounded and the hallway was filled with smoke, debris and broken glass. Oliver rushed over, wanting to check for any casualties. As it were, he did not know where Keon, Illium, Damian and Logan were. Hoping to Merlin that they were safe, he pushed on and was greeted by the sight of two Death Eaters holding two girls by their throats up a wall. Non-verbally, Oliver stunned one and bound the other with ropes. As the blonde and the brunette girls fell to the floor, Oliver had a flitting recognition of the brunette as Hermione Granger. She looked at him with wide eyes filled with warning before he was thrown back against the wall. Oliver’s head pounded in pain. He was on his stomach, his wand a few feet away, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding. This was not a good day.

A third and a fourth Death Eater came into view; one menacingly holding a wand towards him while the other threw a Cruciatus Curse to the blonde girl he did not know.

Screams, horrible screams filled the air though they seemed dull and distant to Oliver as his world tilted on its axis.

“Stop! Stop!” Granger cried, yet she founded so far away.

The Death Eater backhanded her, seemingly in slow motion.

“Don’t you touch her!” Oliver growled and earned himself a kick in the stomach.

Footfalls. Oliver could hear footfalls. He turned his head to see four students running in. They were neither wearing ties nor robes, so he could not tell which House they belonged to. He wanted to warn them, but found his actions to be sluggish. His head was swimming. What the bloody shite?

Looking up, Oliver recognized Draco Malfoy and Marcus Flint. Slytherins. He really was not having the luckiest of days.

“Father!” shouted one of the other boys.

The man torturing the poor girl looked over his shoulder and Oliver recognized the man. Theodore Nott Sr.

“I will not have my heir besotted to a mudblood, Theo,” Nott Sr. snarled.

“I am not _besotted_ to her. I am in love with her. I am fated to be with her, Father, whether you like it or not.”

“You are no son of mine.” With that, Nott Sr. faced the blonde. “ _Avada –_ ”

“ _Stupefy!_ ” Nott Jr. eclaimed and Malfoy echoed him, aiming at the Death Eater that hovered over Oliver.

“Bind them and leave them!” Malfoy shouted.

Flint and the other boy, Zabini, Oliver thought his name was, immediately obeyed, but Nott Jr. ran and stepped over his father to kneel before the blonde. “Mandy? Mandy, open your eyes. Please.”

Granger said something softly to him before rising up, wand in hand.

Oliver tried to stand, but fell back down again. Before he knew it, he felt someone kneel beside him and magic brushed the back of his head. The pounding headache dulled instantly. He looked up and saw Granger. She reached into her beaded bag all the way down to her shoulder ( _What the bleedin’ shite?!_ ) and handed him a potion.

“Invigoration draught,” she said. “This should clear your head right up and give you a boost.”

Oliver drank it gratefully, but before he could say his thanks, she was already running. He looked over and saw the Slytherins huddled together over the blonde. Not wasting time, he picked up his wand and looked for something else to fight, hoping he could stay standing for longer this time.

In the third floor, Professors Hooch and Flitwick were dueling five Death Eaters back to back. Oliver threw in a couple of stunners as he passed them by and ran up the stairs. He hexed his way through, and jinxed and cursed anyone of the enemy he found before spotting Logan and Keon trying to repel acromantulas that were crawling through the broken windows with little headway. Damian was behind them, shielding a couple of students with his body.

“ _Arania Exumai!_ ” Oliver bellowed, making the gigantic spiders fly through the air and out of the castle.

“Show off!” Keon called.

“Dun let me have all the fun, lads,” Oliver teased and kept on running.

“Why is your back covered in blood?” Logan shouted after him.

“One got me!” Oliver shouted back and ran up the stairs.

Further down a corridor, he saw Percy and Fred dueling against a masked Death Eater, Rookwood and the Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse.

“Oh, and by the way, Minister,” Percy was saying as spells were cast back and forth between them, “I quit!”

“Perce, did you just say a joke?” Fred grinned.

Percy turned his head and once again, Oliver found himself airborne as an explosion rattled the castle.

“ _PROTEGO TOTALUM!_ ”

Oliver hit the ground hard and became aware of the body that slammed onto him midair now perched above him, covering him protectively from dust and debris. He looked up to the scowling face of Marcus Flint.

“We have a rematch to settle, Wood,” he said. “Try to stop dying before then.”

With that, the ex-Slytherin Captain stood up.

Oliver was left with a smirk on his face, until he saw Percy’s panicked face. He immediately went to his friend. “Percy, what is it?”

“Fred,” Percy replied, rooted on the spot. “Fred’s in there!” He was pointing at the mound of rubble that once was the wall.

Feeling as though electricity jolted through his system, Oliver threw himself at the rubble and began digging. Beside him, Flint was doing the same and Percy snapped long enough to help them.

Oliver forced himself not to feel grief. He pushed aside the snippets of memories that flitted through his brain of Fred and George and their Quidditch days. There was plenty of time to reminisce later. This was not it. Fred was going to be okay. He was going to –

Fred came to view covered in a translucent blue bubble that Oliver knew well. Turning to see Flint looking at it too, Oliver stood and levitated the rest of the fallen rubble. Percy and George crouched beside him.

“Hermione!” George called and the witch was kneeling beside Fred in an instant.

Oliver focused himself on creating a shield around them so Granger could heal Fred like she did him without further incident. The castle still occasionally shook from explosions. Flint, seeing what he was doing, moved out of the dome he was creating.

“I need to help the others,” he said.

Oliver nodded and watched him leave.

“He’s not responding,” Percy said, the panic in his voice making Oliver turn.

“He’s unconscious, but he’s alive,” Granger said. Hesitation took over her features as she eyed the brothers. “I don’t want to move him. Madame Pomfrey needs to run diagnostics. I can’t – I don’t want to make it worse if I –”

“You already saved him, Hermione,” George interrupted. “If you didn’t cast the spell, he wouldn’t be… He – he wouldn’t…” The twin could not go on.

Percy placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “He’s here, Georgie. He’s here.”

George nodded.

“I need to find Harry and Ron,” Hermione said. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Go,” Percy allowed. “If it’ll end this faster, then you need to go.”

Hermione nodded and left without another word.

Oliver placed a hand on the two brothers and nodded when they said their thanks before he, too, took off.

The castle was in shambles. Everywhere he looked, duels were taking place. Oliver lost track of how many he stood against and whom he stood beside. All he knew was a running list of spells, counter spells, hexes, curses and jinxes were unfolding in his mind. One after another, he cast them. A dodge here, a block there, instinct was keeping him alive. Fatigue could wait. Exhaustion had no place. He had to fight to save as many as he could.

Before he knew it, Oliver caught sight of Illium’s silver hair fighting beside Charlie Weasley, his big brother, Adrian, and another dragonologist he had definitely seen from his brother’s photographs from work. The reinforcements from Romania seemed to have finally arrived.

“Ye could’ve at least brought us a dragon for the fight,” Oliver said in lieu of a greeting, and Adrian immediately repositioned himself behind his kid brother.

“A didnae wanna have tae worry about getting yer arse barbecued before I cast me first hex at a Death Eater,” Adrian quipped back.

Oliver laughed and stunned Dolohov right to the chest before he ran down a flight of stairs with the others.

Before they made it to the bottom, a voice was heard throughout the castle that stopped them on their tracks. Voldemort was calling for a ceasefire, lamenting the waste of pure blood spilt on these grounds. He was calling for them to tend to their wounded and bury their dead. He was calling for Potter’s surrender. One hour.

As soon as the disembodied voice ceased, Oliver found himself hugged tightly by his brother. He too clung to him. His family.

“Any news of ma?” Adrian asked as soon as they let go.

“Nae,” Oliver shook his head. “She’s safe though, inside the wards at home. Last a kno’, she’s still having her episodes. I couldnae visit her. We were being tracked doon.”

Adrian ran his fingers through his brown hair. He was the spitting image of his brother, from the green eyes and the sharp jawline to the tall and lean frame, with only a slight few inches between them. The main difference between them was that where Oliver’s hair was wavy and short, Adrian’s was straight and almost reaching his shoulders.

“Have you seen Keon, Damian and Logan?” Illium asked.

“Not since much earlier,” Oliver said.

“What about my brothers? Ginny? My parents?” Charlie asked.

Oliver paused and Charlie paled at his hesitation. “Fred’s injured. Granger’s spell protected ‘im from a falling wall, but he was still unconscious with Percy and George the last I saw –”

Charlie ran before he could finish his sentence.

Oliver sighed and looked at his big brother. Adrian squeezed his shoulder before leading the way. People were already moving the injured towards the Great Hall and a bustle at the corner showed where Madame Pomfrey was busily tending to the wounded. Oliver refused to look down at those lying still on the ground. Not yet. Not now.

One by one, the Wood brothers brought those who needed help back towards the castle. Over and over, they went out to the grounds and picked up a broken _child_ to bring to the castle. They parted at some point; Oliver did not know when. All he knew was that these were kids bleeding in his arms. These were students who were fighting a war they had no business in. He saw Gryffindors with their jaws locked, pushing themselves to bring one more person in. One more body in. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws tending to the wounded, helping out the hurting. Slytherins without their ties and cloaks, afraid they’d be hexed for being in the wrong house or scaring the others into thinking they were Death Eaters, yet still helping push the debris to clear the pathways.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m on your side,” a familiar voice said, making Oliver pause.

By the corner to his right, he saw Draco Malfoy with his hands held high. A Gryffindor girl crouched before him, her body protectively shielding another on the ground. Tears made their way down her face, cutting through dirt and dust.

 _Patil_ , Oliver thought her name was, had her wand aimed at Malfoy’s chest. He rushed over to them, slowing only when the girl aimed her wand on him.

“Me name’s Oliver Wood,” he said, extending his hand in caution. “And a kno’ Malfoy’s telling the truth. He helped mae earlier. Stunned a Death Eater who was aiming at mae. He’s with us.”

The girl nodded her head and moved aside.

Oliver felt bile at the back of his throat at the sight before him. Mangled flesh. Blood everywhere. Eyes barely holding the light of life in them. A slight movement of breath on the chest.

“It’s Lavender,” Patil sobbed. “Greyback’s got to her. I’m not sure if she – if she’s –”

“We’ll take her to the Great Hall,” said Oliver. “See if Madame Pomfrey can help.” He nudged the frozen Malfoy and together they lifted the blonde to the Great Hall.

Oliver left Malfoy and Patil to call the nurse. It was starting to be too much. He needed air.

Escaping to the grounds, Oliver took a deep cleansing breath, but still, the smell of blood lingered in the air. His mind recapitulated all the faces he’d seen, all the blood, all the injuries. The bodies. He did not even dare look. How many of those were his friends? How many of those were his housemates? His teammates from the Gryffindor Quidditch team? He couldn’t. He just –

A kneeling figure caught his eye and he made his way over to find Neville Longbottom in front of a boy. That’s what he was, a boy. Oliver’s heart broke. He was far too young. Without an exchange of words, the two of them carried Colin Creevey. But Oliver told Neville he’d manage alone after seeing the strain on the younger man’s features.

As Oliver laid Creevey down, he saw the bodies. Children, students, mostly. He saw his old professor, Remus Lupin on the ground with his wife by his side and Oliver quickly turned around only to clash onto his brother. Adrian held him tightly, centering him. He couldn’t crack. Not here. Not yet. It was not over yet. Keon sported a sling for his left arm and a broken nose, which Damian was fixing, but otherwise looked fine. Illium was wrapping Logan’s cut arm, the latter’s leather jacket in tatters by the floor.

Then came the jeering and the malicious laughter.

“Harry Potter is dead!”

Oliver’s eyes shot out the window to see a sea of black cloaks coming towards them as the sun rose in the horizon. At the forefront of it all was Voldemort himself.

“NO!”

McGonagall. That was McGonagall’s heart shattering scream that had Oliver running out of the castle. There, in Hagrid’s arms lay Potter. Dead. He quickly rushed to McGonagall as his previous head of house fell back in shock and heartache. He held her close, supporting her weight.

People flooded out of the Great Hall and spilled onto the grounds. The shouts of Potter’s friends filled the silence and soon, the others on their side started shouting too.

“SILENCE!” Voldemort waved his wand and with a bang, everyone’s tongue stilled. He had Hagrid lay Harry down at his feet while his pet snake crawled on the no-man’s land between the two sides. “Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!”

“He beat you!” Ron Weasley yelled and the charm broke. Once again, those on their side were shouting and screaming until another bang extinguished their voices once more.

“He was killed while trying to escape the grounds!” Voldemort said.

Oliver shook his head. There was no way. He knew Potter. He was anything but a coward.

“No!” Longbottom spoke up, voicing his thoughts, even as McGonagall shook her head in his arms. “Harry didn’t leave. Harry wasn’t a coward.”

“And you are?” Voldemort asked.

Maniacal laughter rang out. “Neville Longbottom, my lord,” said Bellatrix Lestrange. “Son of the aurors. Remember?”

“Ah, yes. Longbottom,” said Voldemort and he and his followers jeered. “Pure-blood, aren’t you? We could do with spirit and bravery like yours in the rank of my followers.”

“When hell freezes over! Dumbledore’s Army!” Longbottom screamed.

Those behind him screamed too.

“Draco!” came as a hissing whisper.

From the side of the crowd stood Lucius Malfoy. His face gaunt and severe, his pale blonde hair limp.

“Draco, come here this instant,” he hissed.

Oliver looked to the side. Malfoy made no move. His face was cold and impassive.

“Draco,” coaxed a woman, who Oliver assumed was his mother.

A look of heartbreak crossed the young man’s features.

“Come here, Draco,” Lucius Malfoy said.

“Come on, Draco. We are family after all.” This time it was Bellatrix Lestrange who called. “Family must stand together. Isn’t that right, Cissy?” Lestrange looked at her sister, who was beside the older Malfoy. The blonde woman stiffened and lifted her chin, hearing the threat beneath the words.

“Draco,” she called her son. The ‘please’ was implied in her tone.

Absolutely shattered by his mother’s silent plea, the younger Malfoy willed his feet to move.

In the heavy silence that hung, one soft voice spoke.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that,” said Granger. “Intolerance cannot drive out intolerance; only acceptance can do that… Family doesn’t stop with blood, Draco. You choose your family… Harry and I have.”

The young Malfoy stopped and looked at her. A hand wound its way to his. Looking down at it then at its owner, he found Pansy Parkinson standing beside him with a gash on her face.

“We’re family, Draco,” she said, gesturing to the handful of Slytherins behind them. Flint, Nott, Zabini, Warrington, Bulstrode, Montague, the two Greengrass sisters. “We’ll stay with you.”

“Draco!” Lucius hissed further. “Get here, now!”

The younger Malfoy walked and picked up a battered Sorting Hat off the ground. He carried it like it held great weight in his hand and stopped beside Granger. Gathering courage, he spoke out loud. “The House of Slytherin stands with the House of Gryffindor. And I, Draco Malfoy, stand with Harry Potter.”

The Slytherins beside him stood in line, defiantly looking at the side of the Death Eaters where some of their parents stood.

Oliver could not help the upward twitching of his lips. He never thought he’d be proud of a Slytherin, yet here they were. Beside him, McGonagall stood a little taller, tilted her head a little higher.

“Then be it on your head,” Voldemort said scornfully.

Many things happened at once. From the Forbidden Forest came the stomps of hooves and in the blink of an eye, arrows shot towards the sky. Heavy thuds shook the earth as a giant came out of the forest charging with a cry of, “HAGGAR!” and instantly, both sides were on the move.

Oliver caught sight of Malfoy throwing the Sorting Hat towards Longbottom before he was engaged in yet another duel. A brief glint caught his eye and he jinxed his opponent quickly before turning to see Longbottom with a sword, a decapitated snake on his feet. Somebody was shouting something about Harry and Oliver was back into the castle dueling back to back with his brother.

An explosion the strength of which knocked him off his feet came from the grounds and Oliver saw Harry Potter _alive_ , the spell of his wand having connected to that of Voldemort’s. With one final push, Potter’s spell connected with Voldemort’s wand, making it fly high in the air. And before his very eyes, Oliver saw Voldemort’s body tear into pieces, a black smoke lifting from it, before he was yet again flown back by the strength of the spell.

The last thing he heard was Bellatrix Lestrange’s maniacal laughter before everything turned black.


	2. The Aftermath

** Chapter 2: The Aftermath **

Charlie Weasley was a simple man. His life revolved around care for dragons and his family. That was all he wanted and certainly all he needed. However, sitting in the brightly lit St. Mungo’s Hospital waiting area, he neither had his dragons, nor did he have every member of his family with him and safe.

Arthur Weasley, the patriarch of the family, had been swiftly whisked away to the Ministry along with Percy, to give aid to the newly appointed Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. His mother, Molly Weasley, was still tending to those left in the castle, helping Madame Pomfrey and the now Headmistress McGonagall with arranging transport to reunite the children back to their families. Bill, his older brother, was also still in the castle with his wife, Fleur, aiding where they could in setting back the wards.

Ron and Ginny were somewhere in the castle too, helping those who survived, who made it through, even if it was just through speaking and listening to them. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, the Weasley’s adopted children in all but law, stood at the center of it all, of course.

Charlie sighed. Ginny was only sixteen and the last Charlie saw her, she was covered in cuts and bruises, having fought the war right beside them despite many protests from every single member of the family. Then again, from what Charlie had been hearing, she was giving Snape and the Carrows hell in the castle on her own accord. Then there was the newly dubbed Golden Trio, emaciated, dirty and exhausted, yet they all still refused to rest. There were students in need of help, they said, and adults in need of comfort.

And sitting beside Charlie, was George, looking even more drained than he was. Charlie found him with Fred and Percy up a corridor on the fifth floor. He had hardly said a word since they lay Fred down on the Great Hall. For the last five or so hours, all Charlie had occasionally heard from him was, “Fred’s alive. He’s breathing.” Even then, he was not sure if George said it to him or himself.

A mediwitch exited Fred’s room and Charlie immediately stood, an action copied by George.

“How’s my brother?” they both asked.

“Mr. Weasley is now in a stable condition,” said the witch. “There were some internal bleeding in the brain, as he had bumped his head, and upon diagnostic, we found damage to his kidneys as well and a ruptured disk on his lower back. If the shielding spell were not put up in time, we would’ve lost him instantly. But he is strong and he is fighting. His magical core took a strain in trying to keep his faculties from collapsing when his brain hemorrhaged, so we had put him in a medically induced coma in order to let his magical core rest and recharge. But other than that, he is out of danger.”

They both breathed in relief.

“We are giving him a strict dosage of potions that has to be ingested every three, five and seven hours,” the mediwitch continued. “If I may show you?”

Charlie and George followed her into Fred’s room, which was small and only contained one bed, two chairs, a small table and a door, which presumably led to the bathroom.

The mediwitch gave them three potions – clear, red and blue respectively, and explained which was which before leaving them.

Fred looked pale lying there with a heavy bandage on his head, but his cuts and bruises had been healed. It seemed strange to Charlie, seeing his brother in a stark white hospital gown, lying on stark white sheets. Fred was usually vibrant and full of colour. But now…

George crossed the room and pulled one of the chairs nearer to Fred’s bed. He settled there, holding his brother’s hand.

“I’ll be right back,” Charlie said and left to get his brother some food from the cafeteria along with the strongest coffee he could. He knew George did not want to sleep, nor would he leave. He may as well take care of his family before leaving to go back to the castle.

After a few nudges to get George to finally take three bites at most of the sandwich Charlie bought him, the latter left and made his way to the floo network of the hospital.

***

Hermione Granger sat bolt upright from her bed, momentarily lost. Her back could still feel the cold floor of the manor from her nightmare, though her shirt was soaked in sweat, the sheets tangled around her legs. She looked around her, from the moonlight that shone through the window on her right, to the three empty beds in her room, and realized she was back in her old dorm room in Gryffindor tower. She untangled herself from her sheets and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. It had been a long night and a long day. And it was still to be followed, she was sure, by an even longer week. They had to rebuild, to cope, to heal… to attend the funerals. Hermione sighed. How was she going to do this?

Casting a quick _tempus_ and realizing that at four in the morning, this was probably the most sleep she could get, she showered, dressed for the day and decided to go to the kitchens for a cuppa.

Walking the deserted corridors and empty staircases, it was difficult not to see the battle. The rubble, the broken glass and the bloodstains did little to hide it. Would this be what it would be like from now on, she wondered. Every time she strolled these halls, would all she be able to see were the scorch marks of spells and curses, and the places where men, women and children fought bravely? Would the day still come when she would pass by the painting of _The Three Dragons_ and remember how she, Ron and Harry aided Peeves with throwing slime at the Inquisitorial Squad and Umbridge, or would this simply be the corridor where she was nearly finished off by Dolohov, if it was not for Oliver Wood?

A sigh escaped her lips. _It’s not all bad_ , she thought, desperate to find a ray of hope.

She and Ron kissed that night. A smile tugged at her lips and a tingling sensation made her rub her palm, the ghost of his hand squeezing hers still fresh in her memory. It had been years coming, wasn’t it? Admittedly, she had worried that they would have to have an awkward conversation about it afterwards. That the kiss had just been a byproduct of the stress, the tension, and the looming sense of doom that came with a battle. But he had come to her in the Great Hall when it was all over and held her hand, pulling her towards the Weasley family, thus showing their relationship without so many words. Hermione still felt giddy thinking about it.

After tickling the pear on the gigantic painting of a fruit bowl, the portrait that hid the kitchens swung open and Hermione stepped in. She busied herself making the tea then made her way to the Great Hall. Again, she stopped short. There were too many memories there, each one overlapping the other, good and bad. Instead, she opened the huge doors and sat herself on the stairs overlooking the grounds and looked up. It was still dark, the stars twinkling in the velvet sky, and Hermione allowed the quiet and the peace to overwhelm her. She blew on her tea and sipped, feeling its warmth go down her throat. How long would this reprieve last, she wondered.

As she braided her hair, which now reached her lower back, Hermione’s thoughts wandered to her parents. They were in Australia now, surely. She wondered if a part of them missed her, or knew of her. A tiny feeling, perhaps, that _something_ was incomplete because they loved her that much. She wondered what she would tell them when she did find them. Would they forgive her? Would they understand? Could she even reverse the spell? She thought of Lockhart; the damage had been irreversible with him. But that was magic that backfired. And even at the best of times, Lockhart has proven time and time again how incompetent he was. So maybe, it was just that: a mix of incompetence and backfired magic. Maybe her spell was reversible.

***

It all became clear that no muggleborn first years were contacted and given their Hogwarts letter this school year and all new students had either been Pureblood or Half-Blood at the least. Meanwhile, any muggleborn who returned for their second year of schooling and above were taken to Azkaban during the train ride back to Hogwarts after the holidays in January. After the Battle and Kingsley’s appointment as Minister for Magic, one of his main priorities was the collection of every muggleborn unjustly sentenced to the wizarding prison, especially the students.

Now, Hermione, Dean Thomas and Hannah Abbott were charged with the task of taking care of the muggleborn students that had been brought there, along with any student who was still stranded, until their parents or guardians could be contacted to take them home.

As the day wore on, they kept busy by helping to tidy either the castle or the grounds and slowly, the number of children dwindled until only five remained.

“I thought muggles can’t come to the castle,” asked Jack, a Muggleborn Gryffindor who was in second year this year, yet took a detour to Azkaban instead. He flicked his sandy blond hair out of his eyes. “How could the parents collect their kids, then?”

The group was in the library, helping Madame Pince sort through a pile of books that she had pre-sorted and checked for damages.

“We’re having Aurors escort them to and from here,” Hannah replied, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose as she perused through the Arithmancy books.

Helping her was Tessa, a third year Ravenclaw, who was the elder sister of Jack. “And how do we know we won’t be followed back home?” she asked. “Jaime’s mum was followed home. Now she’s dead.”

“I’m sorry about your friend,” said Hermione, pausing her alphabetization of books by author at the opposite table. “The Aurors are tracking down all Voldemort supporters.” The five children winced at the name. “And they will make sure of your safe arrival home. They’re to put up secure wards to make sure you and your family are safe.”

“Minister Shacklebolt is a good man,” said Dean beside her. He was taller than ever and seemed to have gained some of the weight that he lost during his time on the run. His dark skin had a healthier shine now, too. “He isn’t biased like the others. He’d personally instructed the aurors what to do to ensure all on our side do not suffer any more losses.”

Amy, a petite, black-haired girl, the youngest of the lot, wrapped her arms around herself. She was in second year, too. Out of everyone Hermione had seen, she looked the most emaciated. Hermione rubbed her back to give comfort.

“Is he really gone?” Lyle asked. He was a third year Half-Blood from Hupplepuff.

“Voldemort?” Hermione asked, and again they winced. “You know, fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Daneel, another supposed second year Muggleborn from Gryffindor. He had brown ringlet curls and bright blue eyes that shone wonderfully against his dark skin. “You were fighting those Death Eaters left, right and center.”

She gave a small smile. “Our freedom is worth fighting for, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wish I could’ve fought,” said Jack.

“With what?” asked Daneel. “You can barely do the levitation charm.”

Jack blushed red and elbowed him on the stomach. “Still. Better than nothing.”

“That’s Gryffindor talk,” said Hannah gently. “Yes, it’s brave, but also reckless. It’s better to live another day and leave the fighting to the adults.”

“If you say so,” Jack shrugged and handed Dean _Hogwarts: A History_ to put in a pile. Nobody commented on the haunted look in his eyes.

By the time dinner rolled around, Lyle was collected by his father and he waved goodbye to the others. Hermione walked them to the front steps of the castle before turning back around. That was when she saw Amy seated at the bottom of the stairs with her arms around herself. She slowly approached.

“Hello, darling, are you alright?”

Amy shook her head.

Hermione sat beside her. “You didn’t eat much earlier.”

Again, the girl shook her head.

“You can talk to me, if you’d like.”

For a while, they just sat there. Hermione did not want to push her as it could only isolate the child more. So she waited patiently. Then a small voice beside her spoke.

“I’m cold… I’m always cold now.” Tears prickled Amy’s eyes. “Those things… they were always outside my room… my cell… and it’s always cold.”

Hermione knew she was talking about dementors. From the back of her mind, she could hear Sirius telling her the same thing as they sat in the library of Grimmauld. He always sat by the fire, no matter the weather outside. Cold. He was always cold.

Taking out her wand, Hermione conjured her bluebell flames and held it in the palm of her hand. Amy was mesmerized by it.

“I had a friend who came from Azkaban, too,” Hermione said. “And I myself know the effects a dementor has. However, unlike you, I was not constantly in its presence or exposed for long periods of time.” She looked at the small girl. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

The girl looked back, her demeanor breaking. “I’m supposed to be a Gryffindor,” she said so softly, as though ashamed of herself.

“Amy, just because you’re a Gryffindor does not mean you cannot feel fear. Humans feel fear. It’s an emotion we must acknowledge, but it doesn’t mean we let it rule over us. Do you know what courage is?”

“Bravery.”

“Yes, but bravery _despite_ fear.” Hermione took the girl’s small hands, careful to push the sleeves of her robes away, and gently placed the bluebell flames in her palms where it hovered, warming her up.

“Oh!” she exclaimed softly, eyes alight. “I’m holding fire.”

“Magic is amazing, isn’t it?” Hermione smiled.

“Yes.”

“Shall we head up to the tower then?”

Amy nodded.

As they made their way, Hermione distracted her with talks of the wonderful magic they have yet to learn. She also conjured up two more flames so now the little blue balls of fire hovered around them. They were almost to the portrait when Jack and Daneel came running.

“Whoa!” Jack exclaimed. “These are brilliant!”

“And it doesn’t hurt,” said Amy. “Go ahead, touch one.”

“Oh no, I’m not falling for that,” said Jack and he and Daneel sniggered.

“I mean it,” said Amy.

“Nope,” said the boys.

To settle the argument, Hermione nodded at Amy and the little emboldened girl grabbed a bluebell flame and held it close to her.

Jack and Daneel had their jaws to the floor. “Wicked.”

Hermione held her smile.

“It’s like watching the twins’ doppelgangers take form, doesn’t it?” asked the Fat Lady.

“Don’t give them ideas,” said Hermione.

“Dear, I really try not to, but it does get boring after a while.” The portrait lady swung open to admit them in just as Jack and Daneel each grabbed a bluebell flame for themselves.

“By the way, Hermione,” said Jack. “Professor – I mean, Headmistress McGonagall said she wants you in her office after you’ve escorted us to the tower.”

“Said a Mister Wood will be looking after us for a while,” added Daneel. “By the way, who’s Mister Wood?”

“That’ll be mae,” Wood said from the couch.

The four turned and this time, Hermione concentrated on retying the end of her braid to keep herself from smiling as Jack and Daneel stared gob smacked at those currently occupying the couches in the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione recognized them, too, not only as the men who fought in the Battle, but by their names since Jack and Daneel spent four hours arguing who was the best Puddlemere United player earlier in the day. Hermione had to beg Harry and Ron to take them flying just so she could have a few moments alone with her thoughts. Thanks to them, she now knew random trivia and statistic about the five men on the couch.

For example: the man sitting nearest the fire with jet black hair that lay flat on his forehead winking at Hermione with dark brown eyes and a flirtatious smirk was Damian Lazarev, Half-Blood and Chaser for the team. According to Jack, he had a ratio of three goals every five throws and has been in the team for three years.

The man beside him with silver hair and silver eyes was Illium Priestley, a Pure-Blood Seeker who has been playing for Puddlemere for the last four years. He played for the Falmouth Falcons for two years before being scouted. He was also Daneel’s favourite player.

The hulking redheaded bearded man was Keon Donovan, Muggleborn, beater and unbelievably fast on a broom. Jack claimed he was a boxer in the muggle world and that his family were loggers, hence his size.

The one with spiked hair sitting next to Wood looking like James Dean was Logan Castor. He was a muggleborn and another chaser for the team. Apparently, he was Wood’s best friend and close competition for being captain. But of course, that honour went to Oliver Wood, keeper. Youngest in the history of Puddlemere to ever gain the title at twenty-three and earned Jack’s admiration ever since last year’s Quidditch match against the Montrose Magpies. Unfortunately, before Wood could prove his worth as captain, Quidditch was canceled and the wizarding world went to war.

Hermione had to admit she was barely keeping herself from smiling at the memory of Wood in their second year telling Harry to “get the snitch or die trying”. She wondered if Wood had calmed down since those days.

“Oliver Wood, these are Daneel Harkson, Jack Barnes and Amy Roberts, second year Gryffindors,” Hermione introduced. “Guys, this is Oliver Wood. He was captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team from my first to third years.”

Wood rose up from his seat and extended his hands to shake Jack and Daneel’s hands, but then bowed so he could kiss the back of Amy’s. “Pleasure tae meet the new generation of Gryffindors.”

All three children had their jaws on the floor.

Wood looked at Hermione. “A think a broke ‘em.”

“No, not quite yet,” she said. “Why don’t you introduce them to your friends?”

There was unmistakable mischief in her eyes that caught Wood’s eye.

“You know Oliver Wood?” Jack asked in a loud whisper, looking at her.

“Oh look, so they do talk,” said Wood, putting his hands in his pockets, amused.

“You know him and you didn’t tell us?” Daneel added, looking up at her incredulously.

“Haven’t I?” Hermione asked innocently, playing with her braid. “Pretty sure I mentioned it.”

“Nuh-uh!” said the two.

“Probably because if she _did_ mention it then you two _never_ would’ve shut up,” Amy muttered loud enough for them to hear, though she chose to focus on the bluebell flames in her hands, the only one that has not been extinguished since Jack and Daneel had dropped theirs pretty quickly.

Hermione had to turn her face away to stop herself from laughing.

“A was fortunate enough to be Harry Potter’s captain, too, y’kno’,” said Wood. “Taught him everything he needed to kno’ about Quidditch from the basics to his best moves.”

At the children’s reaction, Hermione turned to Wood. “Now, I think you’ve done it,” she said, highly amused. “Anyway, looks like you have this under control and I’m needed elsewhere.” Hermione looked down at the three. “Are you going to be alright here for a while?”

“Definitely,” Jack and Daneel chorused.

“And you’ll behave?”

“Absolutely.”

“And if you don’t, I get to tell them what you said to me earlier?”

The two boys paled, and Amy sniggered into her little flame. Hermione sent her a wink and looked up at Wood.

“Just, please make sure they actually sleep?”

“Absolutely. We got it from here,” he replied and turned to his chuckling teammates. “Right lads?”

“Definitely,” said Priestley.

“Absolutely,” said Damian with another wink Hermione’s way.

Castor simply saluted.

“O’course,” said Donovan from the couch with a grin that Hermione decided looked far too innocent to not mean trouble.

Shaking her head and deciding she would not slip into her prefect self scolding grown men like troublemaking students, Hermione bid the three good night and made her way out of the portrait hole. She was halfway down when she heard her name being called. Wood had the portrait opened with Amy by his side. She looked at Hermione hesitantly. Her shoulders were tensed, her eyes watering once more, yet her hands hovered protectively over her bluebell flames. Hermione immediately made her way back up and knelt in front of the girl.

“What is it, darling?”

Amy toed her shoes onto the floor. “I get scared at night,” she said softly. “I get nightmares. Could you – if you go, will the flames die?”

Hermione’s heart went out to her. “No, darling, it won’t. In fact…” she took out her beaded bag from her jacket pocket and reached down until her elbow, which caused Amy to gasp, before she pulled out an empty mason jar. “Why don’t you put the bluebell flames in here? So even when you fall asleep, it’s safely inside.”

“Like a nightlight?” Amy asked, pouring the flames in.

Hermione smiled and closed the jar. “Exactly. I do it sometimes, too, when I get nightmares.”

“ _You_ get nightmares?”

“Yes, I do.” She gave the girl the jar. “Is that better?”

Amy nodded. “Thank you. Good night, Hermione.”

Hermione kissed her forehead. “Good night, darling.”

Amy made her way back inside and Hermione stood, looking at Wood.

“What?”

“You’re amazing with her.”

“She deserves it.” Smiling softly, she turned and headed back towards the stairs.

“Good night, Granger.”

“Good night, Wood.”

***

Charlie had just gotten back to the Burrow from the Ministry of Magic after running errands when Arthur turned him back around telling him that there was an emergency meeting called by Kingsley at Hogwarts. Despite the hour and dinner lying cold on the table, the second eldest Weasley stepped through to the floo and out to McGonagall’s office. Gathered were Harry, Ron and Hermione, his mother, who seemed not to have left since this morning, Percy, Bill and Fleur, and Kingsley himself.

“Good, we’re complete,” said McGonagall and waved her wand. The floo was disconnected for the time being.

“I have grave news,” Kingsley said without preamble. “As you saw in the Battle, Harry has defeated Voldemort. However, the Lestranges, Lucius Malfoy and a few of those in the inner circle of Death Eaters escaped.”

“You think they’re regrouping?” Bill asked.

“Can’t you freeze their assets?” Hermione suggested. “Cut them off from what they’re used to?”

“We can and we have,” said Kingsley. “And the inner circle regrouping is not our biggest worry. At least not yet.” His forehead wrinkled as his brows knit together. “It was Bellatrix’s laughter that triggered my suspicion. As well the way Voldemort died.”

Harry was not the only one concerned, but he was the first to voice out the question on everyone’s mind. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

“Voldemort did not join in the fight,” said Kingsley. “Though some might say he thought it beneath him, I have a feeling that he was incapable.”

“The man’s a murdering maniac,” burst Ron, then as though remembering who it was he was talking to, added, “Sir. I mean, I don’t think he’s the type to hesitate, is all.”

“Exactly, Mister Weasley, so why did he?” Kingsley asked.

“He didn’t hesitate to kill me in the forest,” Harry said, jaws tight.

“Because it was _you_ and there was only one of you,” Kingsley replied.

“Any other proof, Minister?” Hermione asked.

Kingsley sighed. “How many do you know tear to pieces with a backfired curse, Miss Granger, even if it was an _Avada_? No, I think what we’ve witnessed was the same thing that happened almost two decades ago, when Mister Potter first survived the curse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and Comments will be appreciated. Thanks for reading this story.


	3. The Test of Endurance

** Chapter 3: The Test of Endurance **

There were gasps of shock and surprise from everyone, and panic and dread swept through the room, creating more tension.

“You mean he’s _alive_?” McGonagall almost screeched.

“NO! We did everything – _everything_ – right!” Harry bellowed. His hands were tearing at his hair so hard they were coming out of the bun he had it in.

Hermione and Ron turned to comfort him, but he shrugged them off.

“No! We nearly died, several times over, Hermione!” He paced back and forth. “We got all the bloody Horcruxes! Damn near died getting rid of them, not to mention acquiring them! How could it not go right?”

The poor boy collapsed on the couch beside the fireplace, hands in his hair once more. Hermione wrapped her arms around him and pulled on his hands until he let go, silent tears cascading down her face. Harry broke down and cried too, allowing himself to lean onto her. Ron slumped at the arm of the couch with a haunted look in his eyes as he stared without seeing at the fire.

“‘Orcruxes?” Fleur whispered in absolute horror. In an instant, her hair flared out as anger overtook her features. “Zat is what _he_ had you do? Tracking down _‘orcruxes_ of zat madman’s soul?”

The three nodded brokenly as the adults around them looked about, wildly confused and horrified at the possible meaning of that question.

Fleur turned to Dumbledore’s portrait. “How could you!” she bellowed. She ranted in rapid fire French that Charlie knew were nothing but threats before conjuring thick black curtains, not dissimilar to those they used to mute Mrs. Black in Grimmauld Place, to shut Dumbledore out. She crossed the room and sat beside Hermione and gathered her and Harry into her embrace. She held her hand out to Ron as well, who took it gratefully. It was the most motherly Charlie had ever seen his sister-in-law.

“What are – what are horcruxes?” Percy asked softly.

“It’s _very_ dark magic,” Fleur answered fiercely. “I came across one of zose tings while on a mission in ze Alps. ‘Orrible, ‘orrible magic! Inconceivable!” She trailed off muttering in French, her face scrunched.

“I’ve never heard of it,” Bill said, looking between the three of them and his wife.

“Neither have I,” said Kingsley.

“I don’t doubt it,” said Harry, wiping his face. “Even Dumbledore didn’t fully know until I acquired the memory for him.”

Those in the room were even more confused.

Hermione took a breath and sat up straight. Harry, knowing her well enough, moved away to give her space, and Fleur copied him. “A horcrux is an object in which a wizard or a witch has hidden a part of their soul in order to become immortal.”

It was in that moment, every adult in the room realized how huge, daunting, and seemingly impossible the task these three _teenagers_ were set.

“But you said horcruxes,” said Charlie. “Plural.”

The three nodded.

“And you – you _looked_ for those foul things?” Molly hissed in abject horror. “And – and _destroyed_ them?”

“Actually, we looked for four of them, mum,” said Ron.

Hermione nodded. “The snake was the last.”

Everyone’s breath caught.

“No,” said Harry.

“No?” repeated McGonagall.

“No,” said Harry. “No more lies. No more cover-ups. We looked for four – four that had been intentionally created. But there was another, one that was _unintentionally_ created… I was the last horcrux.”

This time, Molly and McGonagall needed to sit down. Percy reached out to comfort the Headmistress and Arthur laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Molly’s chest heaved with sobs as she muttered, “Oh my dear boy. My children,” under her breath.

“The night Voldemort killed my parents, his soul was in flux and highly unstable.” Harry pulled out his glasses and rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Snape, he – he asked Voldemort to spare my mother. He asked him to keep her alive and Voldemort gave his word that he would, swore it. But Snape knew – he _knew_ that word couldn’t be trusted, so he went to Dumbledore and begged him to hide my family.” He put back his glasses but kept his eyes on the carpet. “The night Voldemort came, it was not only my mother’s sacrificial love that saved me. But also the magic that sealed him to his word. Unbeknownst to Voldemort, the moment he swore to spare my mother, he was bound by magic to keep it.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “A wizard’s oath,” she said.

Harry nodded. “Exactly. So when he broke it, magic sought to punish him. That, in addition to my mother’s love that protected me, caused the curse to rebound. And his soul, being in flux, split once more and attached itself to the nearest living being.” He pushed out his hair and showed everyone his scar, which now looked dull and feint.

“How do you know this, Harry?” Arthur asked.

“Snape gave me his memories before he passed. He used to be friends with my mother when they were children.”

Charlie ran his fingers through his hair. _Bloody hell_ , he thought. This was a lot to take in. “So Voldemort created four horcruxes?” he asked, wanting to understand and needing clarification. “Split his soul four ways that it became unstable and accidentally gave you a piece?”

“No, Charlie,” Hermione said, shaking her head and sitting right to the edge of the couch. “Voldemort didn’t create the horcruxes all at the same time. That’s not how it works. It’s not like a cake cut into equal pieces for each to have.

“Every time a horcrux is to be created, the soul is torn in two. One half to remain in the body, the other half, to be put in the object.” She paused to let it sink in. “When Voldemort created his first horcrux, his soul was divided in half. Half stayed in his body, and the other half went into the object.”

“The diary to be precise,” said Harry dully.

“The diary?” asked Arthur, his eyes widening. “The one that got Ginny during her first year? That diary?”

Harry nodded. “Voldemort preserved his sixteen-year-old self in that diary. His first horcrux.”

_Sixteen!_ Charlie thought in shock as those around him grumbled at the disturbing revelation.

“How?” McGonagall asked.

“Murder in cold blood,” Harry replied. “Tom Riddle committed murder and it split his soul in half.” He looked at McGonagall meaningfully.

“Myrtle Warren,” McGonagall said in realization, her hand flying to her heart.

Harry, Ron and Hermione nodded.

“Who?” Charlie and Bill asked.

“Moaning Myrtle,” said Ron. “She was the first casualty of that lunatic. He killed her in cold blood and with that, split his soul in half, and put it in the diary.”

Charlie ran his fingers through his hair once more. _Bloody hell!_ And he thought she was just an annoying ghost in the habit of peeping in the prefect’s bathroom all these years.

“After that,” Hermione said, continuing her explanation, “whenever Voldemort created another horcrux, the soul that he possessed was again split in two. So the half became a quarter. The quarter became an eighth and so forth. That’s why his soul was in flux.”

“So when the curse rebounded,” said Charlie, “it split it again, but accidentally.”

Harry nodded.

“There were actually eight pieces of You-Know – of _Voldemort’s_ soul,” said Ron, braving out the name and training himself to say it. Hermione looked at him appreciatively. “The one still in his body and seven horcruxes.”

“I thought he only made four?” asked Bill.

“No, we only looked for the remaining four,” said Ron. **“** Beforehand, Harry destroyed the diary. And while you guys were preparing for the battle, Hermione destroyed the cup of Hufflepuff.”

“Ron destroyed Slytherin’s locket while we were on the run,” said Hermione. “Fiendfyre destroyed Ravenclaw’s diadem. And Professor Dumbledore destroyed the ring last year. There was a curse placed on it, that’s why his hand was blackened.”

“He was already dying because of it,” said Harry, still staring at the carpet. His long hair had unfurled from its tie and now cascaded forward, framing his face. “Snape manage to contain the curse to his hand, but he only had about a year to live, maybe less. He was dying anyway, so he asked Snape to kill him when the time came. They were in it all along. They planned it together. For Draco. So his soul needn’t be damaged.”

Charlie turned and headed to a decanter of firewhiskey and poured himself a generous amount.

“Good idea, Mister Weasley,” McGonagall said. With a wave of her wand, glasses were conjured.

Charlie took the hint and poured a drink for everyone before levitating it to each person in only a few flicks. Then he downed his glass in one go and poured himself another measure before standing beside his father and brothers once more.

“I’m assuming all horcruxes he made are now dealt with?” McGonagall asked.

The three nodded.

“And what does this mean for your theory, Kingsley?” McGonagall turned to the auror turned Minister. “Do you think another piece of his soul was –” she gestured with her hand.

“I don’t think that’s plausible,” said Harry. “I think he barely made it through making Nagini a horcrux.”

On either side of him, Ron and Hermione were nodding.

“I don’t think it was a horcrux either, no,” said Kingsley, but his demeanour did not lighten. “I think we are dealing with another potent magic. But if it is as you said, I highly doubt his soul could take more splitting. What I do know is that we may have won, but the fight still is not finished. Only time will tell how long it is we have now.”

“It took him a decade after the first war to start with Harry again,” said Percy. “Thirteen - fourteen years between the wars.”

“I doubt we will have that long again,” said Bill. “Whatever measure Voldemort took to ensure he won’t die, he’d done it well before the war was made public. Of that, I’m certain.”

“How else could he have done it, though?” Harry asked heatedly.

“There are other forms of magic, Harry, I’m afraid,” said Arthur.

“For the moment,” said Percy, “we’ve placed a trace on each of the known Death Eaters’ wands. The moment they use it, we’ll know and we’ll be able to track them.”

“So where does that leave us, then?” asked Ron.

“We move on as best as we can,” said Kingsley, “and we prepare.”

The room was silent. The victory over Voldemort and his followers could not be taken from them, but the sweetness of it was edged with bitterness. The fight was not over. This was all but a respite. A period much like that between the first and second wars. A time to live, to heal. But unlike the first respire, this time, they would also prepare and ready their side to the best that they could.

Charlie mulled over the things he had heard and could already feel a headache coming on. What they were to prepare and what against and how, he had no idea.

Across from him, Hermione ran her fingers through Harry’s shoulder length hair, pushing it out of his face. “At least now your connection to Voldemort’s definitely gone,” she said and gave a small smile.

Harry leaned his head onto her shoulder and smiled, too. “Hooray for small victories.”

Hermione chuckled quietly and Charlie smiled at the sound. What was it she said to Malfoy? That hate could not drive out hate. Only love could do that. And intolerance could not drive out intolerance. Only acceptance could do that. And family did not stop with blood. She and Harry chose their family in each other and in the Weasleys. Charlie decided he would abide by her words. He loved his dragons, sure, but his family needed him now, and he needed them. He thought of Fred and George in St. Mungo’s, of Ginny somewhere in the castle. They needed to be together. And together, they would heal. Together, they would prepare. And when the time came, together, they would fight, as they had done the day before.

Clapping Bill on the shoulder and then Percy, Charlie lifted his glass and drank.

***

The next few days were surreal. The healing of the Wizarding World could not come without the acknowledgement of grief first and the acceptance that things were different now.

Within days of the end of the battle came the funerals. Harry, Hermione and Ron insisted on attending each and every one. They mourned with those who mourned and gave condolences and comfort to the family members and friends of the deceased.

Each and every day, Charlie saw the three put on a brave face and leave the Burrow, only to return hours later both emotionally and physically exhausted. He put it upon himself to check on them regularly, but most importantly, he mothered them when it came to eating. Ron was a Weasley and was quick to convince. It was Harry and Hermione that concerned him. Aside from their shallow appetites, there were bruises under their eyes that not even Hermione’s glamour charm could hide. And day-by-day, Charlie suspected that it got worse. They were not sleeping properly. If he had to guess, he would say nightmares. He did not know how to broach the subject, given he did not know how to stop his own. But he knew that talking about it would help. The question was: how?


	4. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The version of Creep integrated in this story is the one sung by Haley Reinhart and given a different story.
> 
> This is a bit light hearted. The previous chapters are quite heavy, which is understandable given it was after the war. But here's a bit of a laugh. Thanks for reading this story.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. I’m just playing in that vast ocean she’s created for us.

Hermione woke up from yet another nightmare and found herself in Ginny’s room. Looking over the redhead’s bed to find her sleeping, Hermione thanked Godric, Merlin and Morgana for silencing charms and got up to start her day.

As she went about her morning routine of relieving herself, brushing her teeth, showering and dressing, Hermione allowed herself to think back on her life before all of the craziness overwhelmed everything else. Not that her life was never crazy, mind; being Harry Potter’s muggleborn best friend came with its fair share – or well, lion’s share of crazy. But Hermione missed the little things.

She missed playing music with her dad and painting with her mum. She missed watching mind-numbing television and doing crossword puzzles on a rainy Sunday morning. She missed turning the music up and dancing in the kitchen while she cooked for her parents. She missed buttery pancakes swimming in syrup just for the affronted look on their faces. It was her special treat, that.

Now, her life was like lego pieces stacked by colour. One week, only blues. The next, only reds. One week, only funerals. The next, reconstruction. The monotony of it all was becoming draining.

She missed the days when she could smile freely without feeling guilty. She missed laughing without having to think someone might think her insensitive. She longed to move on and to, for once in her life, actually not care what people thought. But during the past few weeks, every time she opened the _Daily Prophet_ , there she was. Her name in an article here, a photograph of her there, a mention of _The Golden Trio_ on the other side somewhere.

Hermione sighed. Peace she fought for. Peace she yearned for. But it seemed to elude her the most.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Hermione tied her very long hair up in a messy bun, smoothed out her jeans and tugged her long sleeves to cover her palms as well. She was avoiding _that_ scar. She had not even dared to think it through; she relived it enough when she was asleep, thank you very much. Shaking her head and pulling on her Chuck Taylors, she made her way down to the kitchen quietly. Today, she was making pancakes, she decided. Today, she would give herself a treat.

***

Charlie awoke when his bladder decided to play alarm clock and sleepily hurried himself to the bathroom. What a bad idea that was. He caught walls that just could not move out of the way with his shoulders and the door that could but didn’t with his pinky toe. It took all of his self-control not to wake up the rest of the house with his cursing, but he sure muttered them a mile a minute. If that kind of pain didn’t wake him, nothing would.

After relieving himself and washing his hands, Charlie intended to get another three hours of sleep when his eyes caught the lights on downstairs. Going back for his wand and not minding to put a shirt on, he avoided the squeaky steps on the staircase and cautiously inched his way to the kitchen door to find… Hermione. Her was back to him. And she was swinging her hips slowly in front of the stove.

There was a garbled sound that Charlie recognized faintly as her voice when it dawned on him that she had put up silencing charms. Curiously, he stepped over the threshold of the kitchen and it was like lifting his head above the water. Charlie smiled as the jazzy melody hit his ears. Hermione was singing.

_I don’t care if it hurrrts_

_I wanna have controlll_

_I want the perfect bodyyyy_

_I want a perfect soullll_

_And I want you to noti-i-ice when I’m not around_

_You’re so very special_

_Yeah, I wish I was special_

_But I’m a creeeeeeep_

_I’m a weirdo-oh—oh-ohhh_

_What the hell am I doing herrre?_

_I don’t belong here_

_Oh! Oh! She runs…_

As Hermione got to the high note and began her vocal runs, Charlie stopped breathing. He listened to her rift and felt like he was picked up in the clouds. Her soulful, jazzy voice with its growls and tilts made him forget the time, the place, the war. Here in this kitchen where he grew up, he listened to a song he had never heard before, sung by a girl – no, a woman, he never thought could sing like a siren. Charlie could almost feel himself falling…

And then he hit his head on the wall and realized his hand had slipped from the table.

Hermione was facing him in a blink of an eye and he was acquainted with the tip of her wand inches from his face – which she thankfully put down as soon as she realized it was him. “Charlie!”

“Hey Hermione.” He waved like the idiot he was. “So how are you?”

Her eyes darted from his face to his naked chest and back again. She was blushing even more than he was. “Fine. Er – why are you here? I mean it’s your house, of course, you have every right to be here. But what I mean is what are you doing here? In your kitchen?” She frowned at herself.

“Do you want to start over?” Charlie asked, embarrassed. “I feel like we should start over.”

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

“Okay, so you go back and sing that lovely song again and I –”

“Wait, whoa, you heard me singing?”

“Why, was it supposed to be a secret?”

She frowned again. “Charlie, you’re not helping!”

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s just that it was very beautiful. Your pancakes are burning, by the way.”

“Oh bugger!” She quickly tried to save it and Charlie summoned a throw from the living room to wrap around himself before making a cup of tea. Still amused, he sat down at the kitchen table and looked back at the still flustered grown woman stood by the stove.

“You’re staring,” said Hermione. “It’s creepy.”

“Maybe I’m the bloke you were singing about then.”

She smirked. “My dad… Before he went for dentistry, he used to fancy himself as a rock star, a musician, you know?” Charlie nodded. “He still has it in his heart, I know that. He has this massive collection of vinyl records from Etta James to Queen to Michael Jackson to Guns N’ Roses.” She plated two pancakes and put another measure of batter into the pan. “Every Saturday, he and I would play for hours on end and rearrange songs. The artist, Radiohead, didn’t sing Creep that way. That was my dad’s arrangement. I like it better, I think.”

“You should be proud. From what I heard, it was brilliant.”

“I am proud,” she smiled, but then she turned to flip the pancakes and it was gone. “I just miss them.”

“Well, with the war over, you can go visit them again.”

Hermione was silent before she muttered, “If only it were that easy.”

“Why shouldn’t it be?”

She plated two more pancakes before bringing the entire stack at the table with syrup and butter. She fetched her tea and sat down opposite him, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Charlie had a feeling he was nearing the crux of the issue, maybe perhaps the reason she was not sleeping well. He wanted to tread lightly in case she felt she was being pushed, but he also wanted her to trust him, to feel safe enough with him to open up.

“When I was in Romania and the Death Eaters had all but publicly run the Ministry, I was scared,” he said. “Dad was still working in there. Bill and Fleur are Curse Breakers, for Merlin’s sake; their job’s just as dangerous as mine. Percy still had his head shoved up his arse. The twins were putting out orders for you-know-poo. And Merlin knew what kind of trouble you three were getting up to.”

“Hey!”

“What? Ginny was a law abiding citizen before your little fight club,” he teased.

“I’ll have you know, your _innocent little sister_ coined up the name for Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, and she also came up with the idea that we should all practice the stinging hex on Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.” She smirked.

Charlie’s brows shut up to his hairline. “Brilliant, that sister of mine – I mean – what I meant to say was, I think Fred and George had too much influence on her.”

She grabbed plates and utensils for both of them and passed it to him, desperately trying, and failing, to keep a smile from her lips. “Uh-huh. And from what I hear, you had too much influence on them.”

Charlie served her pancakes first before helping himself. “Me? No, I’m an angel. Helped the animals; that’s all I ever did.”

“Uh-huh. If you’re such an angel, what are the horns for?”

“Keeps the halo straight.” He grinned at her in a childlike manner.

They let the silence settle in comfortably and ate for a while. Charlie noticed her pancakes were _swimming_ in syrup. There was nostalgia behind her eyes as well as heaviness, and mindlessly, she nibbled on the apples she had cut up from the fruit bowl instead.

“I wanted to come back here sooner, you know,” Charlie later continued. “But of course, we needed allies. So I recruited.” He looked down at his plate. “Every day, I worried about you lot over here. I wanted to be here to protect the family, but things had to be done and I was the one given the task to do them. It was a difficult choice, but looking at the tapestry as a whole, I knew the weaves my thread had made has its place.”

“Do you regret it?” Hermione’s voice was small, Charlie almost did not hear. “Do you regret the choices you’ve made to make it through this war?”

Charlie breathed deeply and thought about it, really thought about it. “No,” he decided. “There were people I had to leave – friends and my family, and there are things I chose to do. Sure, I could have convinced more people, gathered more recruits, maybe, arrived in the battle earlier, cast spells faster. There’s always more to do and things to say in hindsight. But at the time, I knew I did what I could with the things I was given. In the end, we’re all still here.” He sat up straighter and tucked back the curls that have come loose behind her ear, making sure to look her in the eye. “Hermione, I could drive myself mad with thinking what-ifs, because the power of hindsight is perspective and knowledge that I did not have before. But what I do know is that I avoided other paths of what-could-have-been and made decisions based on my conscience and moral compass. And with those as perspective, I can definitely say that I don’t regret what I have done because it brought me here to where we are now.”

Mahogany curls bounced, framing Hermione’s face as she nodded. There was still conflict in her eyes, but it soon turned to determination and then vulnerability.

“I sent my parents away,” she said. “I had to keep them safe. I’m Harry Potter’s best friend and a muggleborn to boot. Undesirable number two.” She rolled her eyes. “I was afraid of what Death Eaters would do to my parents should they find them just to gather information on our whereabouts or to get to me, so… I obliviated them.” She looked up at Charlie, her brown eyes conveying how unshielded she was at that moment as she waited for Charlie’s reaction. Did she expect disdain? Chastisement? Condemnation? Pity?

“They think they’re Wendell and Monica Wilkins now,” she continued, her eyes watering. “And they think that moving to Australia have been their lifelong dreams, which shouldn’t be a problem. They don’t remember having a daughter, you see.”

“Oh, Hermione.” Charlie was up from his chair and kneeling in front of her in two strides. He rubbed her back as she cried on his shoulder, her arms around him. Charlie’s heart broke with her every sob. “I could not even begin to imagine what you had to go through and the choices you’ve had to make,” he said softly in her ear. “But trust me on this, Hermione, you did the right thing. You kept them safe. You ensured their wellbeing. And one day, you’ll see them again.”

“I’m not even sure I’ll be able to reverse the spell,” she cried.

“Of course, you can. Brightest witch of your age, you are. What can’t you do?”

There was a choked chuckle from Hermione and Charlie decided he’d take it. He hummed a song he always heard one of his muggleborn colleagues from the reserve sing, hoping she would recognize it and calm down.

Hermione did, thankfully, and she pulled back from him with puffy red eyes and a raised eyebrow. “Is that Thunderstruck? AC/DC?”

“What?”

“That tune you’re humming.”

“You know it?”

“The garage my dad used to take his car to for maintenance always had it playing in the background. How do _you_ know it?”

“Guy from the reserve sings it a lot.”

Hermione chuckled when a commotion from the doorway made them turn. Hermione waved her wand and cancelled the silencing charm just as Harry’s lean frame appeared on the door, his long hair looking messier than it had ever been.

“Ron, I found her!” he said, slightly panting.

“Good! Tell her she owes me for nearly giving me a heart attack this early in the bloody morning!” Ron said somewhere beyond.

Harry smirked and called back to him. “Your brother’s proposing to her. And by the look on her face, she might’ve just said yes.”

There was a rush of footfalls before Ron’s red face showed up at the door. He saw Charlie kneeling in front of Hermione, whose arms were still on his shoulders, her eyes red and cheeks burning.

“Oi! Get away from my girlfriend!”

“No, we’re getting married,” Charlie deadpanned.

Hermione hit his chest. “No, we’re not.” She turned to the two boys she loved most. “I was just telling him about my parents.”

“Oh,” said Ron. “That’s good. It’ll do you well to have someone else to talk to. Though, if you’re looking for a bit of wisdom, you should’ve gone to Bill.”

Charlie shrugged and took back his seat. “She just wanted a hug and a shoulder to cry on, so I leant mine. She might not appreciate your lack of a bicep after this though.”

“Yeah well, she –”

“ _She_ is right here!” said Hermione. “Stop talking about me if you want another pancake.”

“Pancake? There’s pancake?” Harry pushed Ron out the door and hastily claimed the chair next to Hermione before serving himself.

“Shoved out the door for a pancake. Nice best friend you are,” Ron teased, sitting beside Charlie.

“You couldn’t stop eating even when Harry was missing the beginning of our fifth year!” said Hermione.

“Yeah, well, I knew he was alright, didn’t I?”

“He was kicked in the face by Malfoy and left under the invisibility cloak in the Hogwart’s Express!”

“Yeah, well, he was discovered. All was well. No need to bring it back up. Pass the pancake?”

***

The clouds floated lazily through the sky of that late-May morning and all throughout Hogwarts, the sound of reconstruction rang through. Two by two and group by group, depending on the need and the task, the volunteers to help the castle were set to work. Spells were cast, mortar set and the heavy bricks of the enchanted castles were levitated into place. The stone knights were painstakingly put back together one by one. Each knight had no qualms of informing their castor if they’ve put a part of another stone knight in them instead of their correct bits. The grounds were meticulously put back into place, by hand and by magic. And the plants and greenhouses were taken care of by Professor Sprout and her right hand man, Neville, along with Luna and Hannah.

Meanwhile, inside the castle, the classrooms, the library, the corridors, and the staircases were slowly being put to order. Paintings were being placed to their original locations after dusting and mending, and statues were slowly being rebuilt.

The work, though daunting, was taken one step at a time with the hopes that by early the next month, the castle would be reopened to students, new and old alike, once again.

At the moment, a ringing of chimes could be heard throughout the castle, signaling to its workers that lunch was ready to be served in the Great Hall. Hermione slowly levitated the glass panel up the window at the back of the library where she was working and Logan Castor, who was her partner for the day, sealed it into place with a spell.

“That should do it for now,” he said and smiled at her.

“Good, I’m starving,” said Hermione, pushing her braid to her back.

“I can help with that,” Ron said behind them.

Castor nodded to both of them before going on ahead.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Ron said and Hermione lightly slapped his arm. “What? It’s true. Don’t tell me you weren’t pleased to be assigned here; I’d think you’d been Imperiused.”

“Alright, maybe I am, but it’s good therapy for me, I think,” replied Hermione. “This place meant a lot to me growing up.”

Ron nodded. “When in doubt, go to the library.”

Hermione hit him again. This time, he caught her hand and slipped it into his arm before walking them out. “Want to have lunch with me?”

“Aren’t we having lunch together anyway? In the Great Hall?”

“Nope. I was thinking of going somewhere else.”

“Sure. Should we grab Harry?”

Ron looked sheepish as they made their way down flights of stairs. “Actually, I was hoping to have you all to myself for a bit. Would that be alright?”

Hermione blushed. “Oh. Of course.”

Ron’s responding smile could shame the sun in its brilliance. “So I was thinking,” he said, “maybe we could have a picnic by the lake? It’s nice out and I – er – don’t be angry. They were insisting on it when I said what I wanted to do.”

A soft chuckle left Hermione. “Out with it then.”

“The house-elves helped me pack lunch and I mean _pack_. They basically shoved the whole kitchen in the basket.”

Hermione laughed out loud and suddenly stopped herself, freezing on the step she was on.

Ron paused midstride and looked at her. “What’s wrong?”

A guilty look was on her face as she looked around and Ron immediately understood.

“Mione,” he softly called, going down one step and standing in front of her. “It’s okay to laugh, you know that, right?”

Hermione shook her head.

“This place,” Ron gestured around them. “This place has known a lot of laughter. And when we’ve finished fixing it, it will still know a lot more.” He wiped a fallen tear from her eye. “It is not a disrespectful thing to _live_ , Hermione.”

A small smile made its way to Hermione’s lips. “When did you get so wise?”

Ron shrugged. “Charlie told me the same thing this morning.” They continued their way down the staircases. “I laughed and then I realized we were by the wall where Fred –” He cleared his throat. “Suddenly, I felt very guilty. People died in this castle and I was laughing. It felt wrong. But Charlie told me what I told you. I can still honour the memory of those who fell by giving it respect, but it will not do well to stop living. That would be the greatest disrespect, he said, to those who gave their lives so we could live in peace.”

Hermione nodded and soaked in the wisdom of the words. When they left the castle and entered the grounds, she closed her eyes and let Ron lead her for a bit while she turned her face towards the sun. Despite the changes, despite the war, they were still there, alive and together. Hermione thought back to those that they’d lost. From Mad-eye and Dumbledore, to Dobby and the Lupins. No, she decided, they would not begrudge them the laughter and the joy. No, they would not hold it over their heads that they had passed while these, their friends, survived. No. The world could always use more laughter and love. Hermione smiled. The echo of those words from McGonagall during their sixth year came back to her and she decided it was true. There was nothing to be done about the nightmares, but in time, as she dealt with grief and trauma in a healthy manner, they would diminish.

Near the shore where a maple tree stood, Ron pulled out a shrunken picnic basket, enlarged it and laid a mat. Together, they sat and unpacked a pile of three different types of sandwiches, five types of cheeses, seven types of crackers, different cut up fruits, treacle tarts, brownies, chocolate puddings, a jug of pumpkin juice and several bottles of butterbeer.

“How many did you tell them were going to lunch with us?” Hermione asked.

“I told them it was just the two of us, I swear,” said Ron.

“Hmm… perhaps they’ve remembered how you ate.”

“Hey!”

Hermione laughed freely and Ron smiled at the sight. They each grabbed what they fancied and ate, looking around the grounds they had considered home and the peaceful waters of the black lake.

“I owe you thanks, you know,” said Ron. When Hermione looked at him, his eyes were filled with emotion, which was very unlike Ron, unless that emotion was anger. “As well as a proper apology.”

“What for?”

Ron sighed. “When I left, Hermione, I honestly knew it was a mistake –”

“Ron, we’ve talked about this. And you’ve apologized already. It was the horcrux. It was bringing out the worst in us.”

“No, I know that. But it didn’t change the fact that I’ve still said all those things about you and Harry, nor that I thought them. There was a reason they were used, and I think it’s because they were already there. I was jealous. I was petty. I have my insecurities –”

“We all do.”

“Right. But you’ve risen far beyond yours.”

This time, Hermione shook her head. “You think too highly of me, Ronald. I am far from the image in a pedestal you see me in.”

“You’re brilliant and amazing at everything, Mione. You’re a wonderful person, loyal, and kind. I was too stupid to take this long to see it, but I do now.” He turned shy and scratched the back of his head. “I really don’t want to mess this up. I love you, Mione, and I have since we were thirteen, fourteen years old. And I’m sorry it took a bloody war for me to say it.” He frowned. “And for taking longer to do right by you.”

Hermione’s sandwich lay forgotten on the mat as she looked at him. “You love me?”

The corner of Ron’s lips twitched upward. “Well, yeah. I figured you knew that. You were pretty enthusiastic during the kiss and all.”

Hermione hit his arm. “But seriously, you really love me?”

This time, Ron smiled. He looked at ease with his decision. “Yeah, I do. You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know where I stand and -”

Hermione leapt to her knees and flung herself at him, pressing her lips to his as they fell backwards. She had cared for the boy longer than she wanted to admit, but he was right. Despite their arguments and not seeing eye to eye, even through that whole ‘Won Won’ fiasco, she had grown to have feelings for one of her best friends. And now it felt as though the butterflies in her stomach would make her burst with happiness.

When they parted, both of them were blushing profusely.

“I love you, too, Ronald,” Hermione whispered.

“Good.”

Behind them, there were several throats being cleared.

Hermione immediately sat up and moved back from Ron, who still had a dazed look in his eyes and a lazy smile on his lips.

“Sorry to ruin the moment, but Ron seemed to have a Granger stuck to his face,” Charlie teasingly said.

“Don’t be so judgmental, Charlie,” said Ginny. “For all we knew, Ronald was drowning and Hermione was resuscitating him muggle-style. What was that called again, Harry?”

“CPR,” said Harry. “Hermione, your face is the colour of his hair.” He laughed with Charlie and Ginny.

Hermione blushed further, wanting nothing more than to get swallowed up by the earth she was sitting on.

“Leave her alone, you prat,” said Ron, jokingly throwing a fallen twig at them. “We – er – we were just having a chat.”

The three went over to them and sat, uninvited, on the mat and ate, unbidden, from the basket.

“Hard to have a chat with your lips pressed together,” Charlie commented before biting at a ham sandwich.

“Could be a new skill,” said Ginny, smirking from behind her butterbeer bottle and waggling her eyebrows.

Ron put an arm around his girlfriend. “Don’t mind them,” he told her. “They’re just teasing.”

Hermione nodded and set to finish her tuna sandwich, still refusing to look at any of them.

“So, what is going on between you two?” Harry asked. He was seated on Hermione’s right and Ginny’s left, with Charlie on her right perched next to Ron, closing up their circle.

“We’re together,” said Ron simply, taking out chocolate pudding for himself and handing another to Hermione.

“I know that,” said Harry. “But is this, you know, serious?”

“Of course it is,” said Ron, affronted at the implication that they were anything but.

“I’m just saying,” Harry stressed out. “Do you have your head screwed on straight? No more hurting Hermione?”

“Of course, there won’t be –”

“No, Ron, I’m serious this time.” And from the look of it, Harry was. He leveled his best mate with a look of such sternness and protectiveness even Ron had to swallow at the sight. Beside Ron, Charlie had to raise an eyebrow, impressed. Harry continued. “Hermione’s my sister. When you left, we had to deal with your absence together and I realized even more so than I had in the past how much she means to me and how grateful I am to have her in my life. If you hurt her again like you did when you left or like at the Yule ball, you’ll be dealing with _me_. I don’t care how many brothers you have. I cut Voldemort to pieces with a bloody disarming spell.”

Ron nodded solemnly. “I love her, mate. And I told her that. I also told her I do not want to mess it up.” His hand flew to the back of his head, ruffling his hair a bit. “I probably will mess it up somehow, knowing me and my big mouth. But I promise you I won’t hurt your sister. Just like I know you won’t hurt mine.”

Harry broke into a smile. “Good. Any more butterbeers?”

Hermione smiled, too, and leant over to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Harry just shrugged as he took a drink and lay down with his head on his girlfriend’s lap. Ginny’s fingers automatically combed through his hair, making it messier than it already was. Meanwhile, Hermione leant into Ron, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders. There, beneath the shade of the tree, with the castle as the view and the splashes of the giant squid as their background noise, everything, to Hermione, seemed to start getting better.

Later that day, as they were finishing up, McGonagall came and ushered them to her office.

“Blimey, what have we done this time?” Ron muttered to Harry and Hermione.

“It really is a testament to all your years of Hogwarts, Mister Weasley,” said McGonagall, having heard him, “that your first instinct to being invited into this office is trouble.”

“With all due respect, Professor,” Ron replied, “I had to go with the odds.”

There was a smile threatening to break the stern demeanour of the Headmistress. “Well, you need not fear. This afternoon, your mother received a patronus regarding your brother in St. Mungo’s and she left right away to see him. I am offering the use of my floo so you can go there immediately.”

At the sound of news of Fred, the three Weasleys, Hermione and Harry immediately lined up in front of the fireplace. With a quick thank-you to their Head of House, they called out for St. Mungo’s Hospital.

Bill was already in the waiting room expecting their arrival and, upon seeing them all there, led the way to the Janus Thickey Ward in the fourth floor. It was a tight fit in Fred’s room, but when they walked in, it was to see him sitting on his bed eating pudding. Ginny ran to him straight away and wrapped her arms around her brother. Ron was not too far behind, squeezing his shoulder. Molly was smiling with a relieved look in her eyes as she plumped Fred’s pillow on the other side. George was sitting at the foot of the bed with his feet up, looking peaceful and happy.

Charlie did not wait for Ginny to let go, but wrapped his arms around the two of them and ruffled Fred’s hair for good measure. “Scared us there for a while,” he said. “Ginny and I were considering opening up a kissing booth for you. You know, like a Sleeping Beauty situation.”

“Damn, should’ve stayed asleep longer,” said Fred.

Molly rolled her eyes and hit him at the back of the head. “You would do no such thing. I raised you better.”

“Mum, it’s okay,” Charlie said. “We can tell him he’s adopted. He can handle it now.”

“Oi, what about me?” said George.

“You’re adopted, too,” said Charlie.

“Watch your mouth, young man,” said Molly. “You’re not too old for me to put you across my knee.”

Charlie’s eyes widened even as his siblings laughed. Hermione and Harry were standing by the door, smiling happily at the family.

“Alright, Harry?” Fred asked. “Heard you split Voldesnort to pieces with an _expelliarmus_!”

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, well, he killed me twice. I thought it just seemed right.”

“Mate, don’t get us wrong,” said George.

“We’re very much impressed,” continued Fred.

“But you _do_ know –”

“That there are _other_ spells, right?”

“There are?” asked Harry and looked at Hermione. “How long have you kept this from me?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Merlin, give me strength.”

“Speaking of strength,” said Fred and everyone could hear the slight change in his tone. “I heard you saved my life, Miss Granger.”

George nodded his head. “Best damn use of a shield spell I’ve ever seen.”

“Language,” Molly and Hermione chorused.

“Oh, no Gred,” said George. “There’s two of them!”

“We must face the music, Forge. Our cursing, carefree days are over.”

“Tragedy, really.”

“Not as tragic as your face,” said Charlie.

“Hey!” the twins protested. “We. Are. _Gorgeous_!”

“Oh dear, they’re deluded,” said Ginny. “Are they being given the right potions?”

“No, I’m afraid that was a pre-existing condition,” said Ron.

The twins gasped. They were about to retort when Molly interrupted.

“Hermione, dear,” she said in that motherly soft tone of hers. “Between you and Harry, this family’s life debt and gratitude –”

“Mrs. Weasley, let me just stop you there,” said Hermione, and beside her, Harry was shaking his head vehemently. “Harry and I owe this family just as much. You’ve taken us in, fed us, helped us in more ways than we could even count.”

“Yeah,” agreed Harry. “You put all your lives at risk to hide me, for Godric’s sake. You always had a place for Hermione and I, and you’ve never treated us any differently than your children. And for that we’re so very grateful.”

Hermione nodded her head enthusiastically.

Molly had tears in her eyes. “Well, all the same, thank you, my dears, for everything.” She embraced the two tightly, which they gladly reciprocated. “I know neither of you came from me, but you _are_ my children. And I know I can never replace your mums, but I am here, as a second mum, if you need me.”

When they let go, the matriarch made an excuse about speaking to the Head Healer and left the room. Every one of her children knew she wanted a bit of a cry and let her go.

Harry and Hermione walked closer to the siblings and stood beside their respective partners. Both of them had misty eyes they were rapidly trying to blink away.

“You think the life debts are the reason why she let Harry keep the long hair?” Charlie asked, breaking the tension, and they all laughed. They could still remember Molly forcefully cutting Charlie’s hair short before Bill’s wedding.

“When we get the shop back in order,” said Fred to Hermione after they’ve calmed, “you will be the first to get our WonderWitch line, for free.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Hermione.

“Nope,” said George. “Just the best on the line for you.”

Fred held her hand. “Allow us to thank you, Hermione. It’s not to repay what you’ve done, because I doubt a lifetime supply of any of our products will ever be enough. But just allow us to show you our gratitude in a way that won’t make you hex us.”

Hermione smiled. “Okay then.”

“Well, if you’re quite finished,” said Ron. “Let go of my girlfriend.”

The twins looked at each other.

“Did you hear that, Forge?”

“I sure did, Gred.”

“Call the Healer! She’s got an even bigger concussion than I did!”

Harry and the siblings laughed even as Ron and Hermione rolled their eyes.


	5. Friends

Near the completion of the Hogwarts castle and grounds, the Gryffindor volunteers chose to host a sleepover. It was now early-June and they had taken close to three weeks to complete the reconstruction, but it was worth it. Come the eighth of June, the school would open to admit students once again and welcome back those who decided to return to finish off their studies and take their OWLs and NEWTs.

Gryffindor tower opened its doors to Luna Lovegood and Hannah Abbot and Oliver Wood’s Puddlemere United teammates who were present during the reconstruction. Fred and George had dazzled them, along with the professors, with their Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-bangs after dinner and even showed off the fireworks that they have dubbed The Umbridge Special, which featured a fireworks display of a toad with a pink bowtie being swallowed whole by a Hungarian Horntail.

In the early hours of the next morning, however, Hermione once again found herself screaming and waking from her nightmares of the Malfoy Manor. Only this time, aside from being tortured herself, she had to watch Harry and Ron go through the Cruciatus as well. Looking around the still dark bedroom, Hermione saw the sleeping forms of Ginny, Luna and Hannah and quietly made her way to the bathroom. She turned the shower knob to hot and stood under the steaming water to chase away the cold in her bones that always accompanied these nightmares. Careful to avoid glancing at her left forearm, Hermione washed and allowed the sweet lavender scent to wrap around her and relax her mind before turning the setting cold then hopping out.

She had yet to sit down and deal with this new permanent fixture in her body, feeling as though it was too much at the moment. She did not want to break down, nor did she want to drudge up that particular memory, knowing she did not have the emotional strength and capability just yet. The time was soon approaching, though, when Hermione knew she would have to. It was affecting her too much already, particularly at nights. And every morning, Harry and Ron had gotten into the habit of looking for her, no matter where they were sleeping. She was fortunate they had yet to stumble on her nightmares, but they knew she was having them. Most likely because they were having one themselves. None of them were sleeping properly. Ron was taking it out on food, Harry on caffeine and Hermione on tea. But soon, soon they would have to face the music.

Hermione fished a purple cap-sleeved shirt to wear with her jeans before putting on a knitted cardigan and her well-worn converse. She left her hair to dry on its own and went down to the common room and out through the portrait hole. Now that her hair was longer, it did not fizz as much, the weight of the curls taming the normal bush.

It was a very different feeling walking through the castle now. There was still a hint of the battle that was there and her memories would never let her forget otherwise, but now there was peace, too. And no doubt, when the students came once more and filled this castle, it would be just as Ron and Charlie said – laughter would rule this place again.

After tickling the pear on the gigantic painting of a fruit bowl, the portrait that hid the kitchens swung open and Hermione stepped in to see Oliver Wood with his back to her, jumping up and down.

“Merlin’s saggy ballocks and Morgana’s left tit,” the Scot muttered in exasperation.

Before Hermione could stop herself, the words were already leaving her mouth. “What’s wrong with Morgana’s left tit?”

Surprised, Wood quickly turned around, his shin catching the edge of the wooden bench, and once again, he was jumping. “Farking – bleeding – damning shite – ow, good Godric help me!”

Hermione had to put her hand against the wall to stop herself from collapsing as she laughed out loud and unrestrained for the first time in weeks. And now that she started, it was difficult to stop. No matter how hard she tried to school her features to something more polite or even at the very least, to stop herself from turning red, there was no hope.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” she said, yet still the laughter came. “I just – you were – oh Merlin and Morgana!” Another wave of laughter stole her breath.

Soon, even Wood started to laugh looking at her failing battle at civility, until both of them were sitting on the floor clutching their hurting stomachs.

After they have somewhat settled, Hermione took a deep breath. “Merlin, I needed that,” she said, looking up at the ancient candelabra on the ceiling.

“Am glad my pain was hilarious to you,” Wood said teasingly.

They looked at each other and giggles broke out once more. She really needed to pull it together.

“Wha’ _are_ ye doing ‘ere?” Wood asked after a moment.

“I wanted a cuppa,” Hermione answered.

“It’s half-four in the morning.”

“Yes, and you’ve already said more curses than most people do in three weeks.” Her cheeks were already hurting. She had not laughed like this for a while, much less smiled. Who knew she needed to retrain?

Hermione heard Wood’s low chuckle and she got the feeling that he was biting his lip as to prevent from triggering another round.

“Well, a was no’ aware of company,” he said simply.

“Too bad. I wanted a cuppa, I’m getting a cuppa.” With that, she stood up, intending to go to one of the cupboards in search for tea, but stopped at the sight of Wood’s trousers being wet and slightly steaming. From there, she eyes landed on the puddle of tea and the empty mug he was holding. This time, she did not even hold back the laughter that came pouring out of her.

“So it’s all true, then? The rumours that went ‘round before?” Wood asked incredulously over his plate of a full English breakfast.

They were still in the kitchens, sitting on one of the tables that shadowed the ones on the Great Hall. A house-elf had gotten up from the ruckus they were making and pitied the two Gryffindors rolling around on the floor, unable to breathe from laughter. Merlin knew they all needed some semblance of joy after what happened.

“Which ones?” Hermione asked back, nibbling at her toast, mushrooms and tomatoes.

“The one with the troll on Halloween? Your first year?”

Hermione nodded slowly. “Yeah, that. I went crying after Ronald said something mean and when I got out of the bathroom stall, there was this gigantic troll with a club in front of me. It smashed everything! Thank goodness Harry and Ron showed up. They saved me from it, with Harry’s wand up its nose and a swish and flick from Ronald, and it was knocked out by its own club!” She finished proudly.

Wood had his jaw wide open. “Nae, yer jokin’.”

“Ask Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, they’ll tell you.”

“They were there?! Why didnae they help?”

“They came afterwards. I took the blame from the boys.” She shrugged. “Told Professor McGonagall it was my fault. She took some points off and gave me detention.”

“Fer the love of – a thought ye were the good one!”

“Oh, you thought _that_ was bad?”

“Wha’ else have ye done?” Wood’s eyes were wide as saucers, though there was an upward tug at the corner of his lips he was definitely fighting.

“I’ll have you know that first match Harry played against Slytherin was won because of my intervention, thank you very much.”

Wood raised an eyebrow. “This I have to hear. Go on, missy.”

“Missy?”

He shrugged one shoulder and moved his still half-full plate to the side, making a show of giving her all his attention.

“Well,” said Hermione, deliberately chewing her toast slowly and swallowing. “If you could remember, Harry’s broom was jerking about at the time.”

“Aye, a remember.”

“It was being jinxed. Hagrid, Ron and I looked around and we saw Professor Snape muttering something continuously under his breath and keeping eye contact the entire time. So I went over to him, and I… er… I may have… er…”

“Spit it out, Granger. What did ye -”

“I set him on fire.”

Oliver blinked. “O-kay, that was no’ what a was expecting.”

“Turned out, he wasn’t the one jinxing Harry.”

“Ye set a _teacher_ on fire an’ he was _innocent_?!”

Hermione giggled and nodded. “But the good news was that he knocked over Professor Quirrell, who turned out to be the one jinxing Harry’s broom. Professor Snape was only muttering the counter-jinx.”

Oliver breathed out forcefully. “That. Was. _Insane_.” He picked up his plate and again began to eat thoughtfully before looking back at her. “Stop playing with yer food.”

She was not even aware she was doing it. “I don’t like beans.”

“Give it here. We can trade. What d’ye like?”

“No, I’m fine –”

“Nae, ye need to eat. D’ye like the bangers or the eggs, wha’?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. “Eggs please.”

“Right. Ye eatin’ the black pudding or is it just a sinking ship in yer baked beans?”

“You can have that too.”

Wood took her beans and black pudding then gave her his eggs, mushrooms and bacon.

“I don’t want the bacon.”

“Granger, nobody in their right mind dislikes bacon.”

“I’m not saying I dislike it. I’m saying it’s yours.”

“Yer black pudding for my bacon.”

“And the mushroom?”

“Fer the love of – it’s just a mushroom, lass, take it!”

Hermione chuckled.

“Dun start. We’ll be on the ground before long.”

Hermione shook her head and focused on eating for a while before she triggered another round.

“Are there other ones? Like the troll?”

“Harry, Ron and I have _never_ had a normal school year.”

“Tell mae then.”

Hermione scrunched up her nose. “How about this? I’ll tell you two truths and a lie. You tell me which one you think is the lie, and if you guess correctly, I tell you both truths. But if you choose wrong, I tell you nothing.”

“Deal.”

She took a deep breath. “We started a secret dueling club to teach students how to fight. We once swam in the lake and the giant squid hid us from Filch. I once used a time-turner for an entire year without getting caught.”

To her surprise, Wood smirked. “Anno for a fact ye three started Dumbledore’s Army in yer fifth year under the Toad, so that one’s out.”

Hermione had her mouth open in shock. “How did you know that?”

“Fred and George couldnae shut up about it. And neither could Neville, Ginny, Dean, Seamus –”

“Alright, alright, so the rest of them.”

Wood chuckled. “Aye, so that just leaves…” he narrowed his beautiful green eyes at her. “Time-turners are highly illegal an’ they’re all strictly monitored by the Department af Mysteries. So I’ll go with the giant squid.”

Now it was Hermione’s time to smirk. “Nope.”

Wood’s knife and fork clattered on his plate in shock. “Naawwww… Time-turner? For a year?”

Hermione nodded and took a bite of eggs and mushroom.

“A’ve gotta hear this.”

She shook her head with a cheeky smile. “Now, now, rules are rules.”

“Oh come on, Granger!”

She smiled and took a big bite of her food and shook her head when a silver-blue stag appeared beside their table. It opened its mouth and Harry’s voice spoke out.

“Where are you? Merlin, Hermione, if you got yourself kidnapped this early after the war, I’m gonna be pissed.”

The patronus disappeared and Hermione laughed before casting her own. The otter swam around the table, circling her before sitting up.

“I’m fine, Harry. Just eating breakfast in the kitchen. I forgot about the time. I’ll be out in a few.”

With a nod, the otter floated out the walls and disappeared. When Hermione looked at Wood, his eyes were round and his jaw slack.

“Was that a patronus? A speaking patronus? Potter’s?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Hermione said simply, took another big bite, finishing off her food, before smiling at him and quickly leaving. Wood was still calling out her name, dismay marring his tone at not being able to ask about it.

***

Later in the day, just before noon, the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, held a memorial service at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for all who has fallen – Pureblood, Half-Blood, Muggleborn and Muggle alike.

A semi-circular angled wall in black marble sat perched between the Forbidden Forest and the shore of the Black Lake surrounded by bushes of flowers that provided the area with wonderful scents. Every name of those that were lost – family, friends and allies – were written there. Kingsley gave a wonderful speech that moved the hearts of those that listened. He spoke about courage and bravery. He spoke about the fact that this war was not meant to be fought by children and students, but yet was, and for that this generation would forever be respected, admired and saluted. He gave thanks and condolences to those who have sacrificed their lives and those who have fallen victim to the tyranny of a madman’s prejudice and hate. And he gave thanks to the victory that the wizarding world now had because people fought and stood up and did not remain passive in the face of such oppression.

After him, Harry came up as well. His speech was short but he acknowledged the loss everyone has suffered, and the bravery of those who fought this war with him. He thanked them for choosing courage instead of cowardice. He encouraged those left behind to do more than survive, but to live and live well so that those whose who laid down their lives would be proud. This was the reason they fought, so peace could be achieved. Now that they had it, he urged people not to waste it.

The ceremony ended with everyone in attendance lifting up their wands for the fallen and for the family and friends they have left behind.

As people were slowly dispersing, Harry, Ron and Hermione congregated around their friends from Dumbledore’s Army.

“We’ve come far from those Umbridge days, haven’t we?” Neville said with a reminiscent smile.

“I’d say so,” said Harry. “You’ve led a rebellion inside the castle, taunted and resisted Death Eaters –”

“Decapitated a giant snake!” added Seamus and they all laughed.

Neville was blushing. “Well, it’s not tearing up the darkest wizard of all time with a bloody disarming spell, but it’ll do.”

“Any of you heard from the Slytherins, by the way?” Harry asked.

“They were here, helping with the rebuilding,” confirmed Dean.

Seamus nodded. “They didn’t mingle with us, though. Reckon there’s still a bit of tension there.”

“Only because the Death Eater trials have started,” said Ginny. “I don’t think they want to be seen with us. People have not exactly been understanding, given their parents’ allegiance.”

“Bloody hell,” said Ron. “You don’t reckon the Slytherins would face criminal charges, do you? Association and what not?”

“No, they stood with us,” protested Hermione. “It wouldn’t be fair if they were charged. They changed their allegiance before the final battle.”

“And they were helping our side through all of it,” said Luna airily. “If it wasn’t for Draco, Dean and I would have died. And you three as well.” She looked at Hermione, Ron and Harry, who all nodded.

“Throughout the school year,” said Neville, “we’d always find a list of those the Carrows were keeping a close eye on. Now I have a feeling it had been Parkinson, Zabini and Nott.”

“It was,” confirmed Ginny. “Right before Harry came to the castle, I saw Parkinson put the list on the window next to where the door to the Room of Requirement would show up.”

Harry and Hermione locked eyes and she knew he was thinking about Malfoy’s stand on top of that and how the Slytherins stood side by side with them that day.

“If it did come to it, though,” said Neville. “If they were put to trial, we should do something about it. Malfoy may have been a git, but the way he defied his father and Voldemort that day was nothing short of inspirational. All of them have.”

“Singing my praises already, Longbottom?” came a drawling voice they would know anywhere. Sure enough, when the group turned, it was to see Malfoy walking towards them with Parkinson, Nott and Zabini in tow. “Potter, Weasley, Granger, the rest of you,” he said as greeting as he stopped before the group.

“Malfoy,” said Harry.

“Malfoy,” said Ron.

“Blondie,” said Ginny.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but there was amusement in his eyes. For a few moments, nobody seemed to know what to say.

“So,” said Hermione. “How have you guys been since – well, since, you know –”

“Since we all got ourselves disowned?” Nott said.

Hermione blushed. “Yes, that.”

Malfoy shrugged. “My family’s missing, presumably in hiding, so technically, I’m homeless,” he said nonchalantly.

Zabini rolled his eyes. “You are not homeless. You live in my mansion, for Salazar’s sake.”

“What about the rest of you?” Harry asked. Hermione could see the concern he had for the Slytherins who stood up for him, sacrificing everything they were used to, including wealth and family.

Nott sighed. “I’m living with Mandy – Amanda Settinston and her family,” he said. “I have it easier.”

“Your father literally tried to kill you before Longbottom beheaded the snake,” said Parkinson, rolling her eyes.

“Why can’t you return to your houses?” Ron asked. “Your fathers are in hiding, aren’t they? So that shouldn’t be –”

“The Ministry has frozen all assets of all known Death Eaters,” Malfoy interrupted. “Pansy’s family is under investigation, though they get to keep their wealth.”

“For the time being, anyway,” Parkinson muttered, rolling her eyes again.

“The Zabinis, Greengrasses and Warringtons are safe,” Malfoy continued as though there was no interruption made. “They have no affiliation with Death Eaters, merely caught in the middle, as most civilians are. The Montagues have left for Italy after the Ministry has cleared them. And the Flints have also been cleared.”

“So it’s basically just the three of us screwed. Isn’t it great?” Parkinson said, her tone and dry smile oozing with sarcasm.

Nott was supposed to reply when three men in fine dress robes approached the group. Leading them was a short but stocky man with a brown bowler hat that distinctly reminded Hermione of Fudge. She immediately did not trust him.

“Mister Potter, are they bothering you?” he asked, raising his right brow, which had two scars across it forming an X. “My name is Claudius Jones, these are my partners, Mister Lynch and Mister Rhodes. We are on the business of private security, highly trained and have served as aurors in the past. We would like to offer you our services. We can make them go away, just say the word.” He looked at the Slytherins menacingly.

“No, they’re not ‘bothering me’,” said Harry, disdain and disapproval clear on his tone. “And I do not need bodyguards, thank you.”

The man did not seem to catch it. “Nevertheless, the savior of the wizarding world shouldn’t have to deal with _Death Eater spawn_.” He turned to the Slytherins and spat at Malfoy’s feet. “Off with you.”

“Excuse me!” Hermione said. Even she was surprised at the vivacity of her voice, but anger was stirring within her. “We’ve fought to abolish prejudice. Prejudice that you are now still exhibiting. It’s been nearly a month since the war. Have you learnt nothing?”

“Miss Granger,” he seemed surprised by her tenacity. “With all due respect, these brats –”

“Sacrificed much for Harry and for this war!” she finished, her tone brokering no argument. “They are not their fathers! Draco stood beside me in front of Voldemort –” the men flinched at the name “- and his followers, some of which are their parents. Their sacrifice in this war is just as great as ours!”

“If you had been present during the battle, you would have known that,” said Harry. “As it were, where were you?”

The two men looked down, shamed, but not Jones.

“If you change your mind, Mister Potter –” he took a card from his breast pocket and extended it to Harry, who did not even make the attempt to accept it, nor did he look away from the man’s face.

“I do not intend to associate myself with people who insult the ones who’ve stood beside me in battle,” he said coldly. Behind him, every Gryffindor puffed out their chests and raised their chins in agreement.

Jones inclined his head and left them, his eyes lingering with malice towards the Slytherins, but said nothing more about it. The two behind him mouthed apologies to Harry and Hermione, but did not even look at Malfoy and the others.

“Well, I’d never thought I’d see the day,” said Malfoy with a smirk. “I suppose thanks are in order.” He extended his hand towards Harry.

Hermione was transported back seven years when a young Draco Malfoy has done exactly that towards Harry. But unlike back then, Harry shook the outstretched hand.

“I’ll have a word with the Minister,” he said, “and see what I can do to help with restoring what’s rightfully yours.” He nodded to Nott and Parkinson for good measure.

Malfoy nodded back. “I guess we’ll see you around then. Potter, Granger, Red, the rest of you.” He smirked at Ginny amusedly and walked away. The Slytherins nodded their heads at the Gryffindors in acknowledgement and the Gryffindors did the same.


	6. Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fun to write. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :) This was inspired by a tumblr post I saw. Credits to "emnneryn" for planting the idea in my head.
> 
> As per usual, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just play in this world. Take care!

“Oh, I am going to _kill_ her!” Hermione exclaimed over breakfast.

It had been two weeks since Hogwarts had opened its doors for the students once again. They had put forward an intensive tutoring provision that allowed students to catch up on lessons and proper learning of the subjects that were in the proper curriculum. Most notably, the provision allowed for O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students to be able to take their exams without endangering their scores and test results being substandard. However, due to the freshness of the war and the traumatic experience it brought, the floo network remained open in case the children felt the need to go home and see their families, as long as they notified their prefects or professors.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron had been offered a position to go into an intensive Auror Training Program by Kingsley without having to return back to school. The Ministry had generously given NEWTs to every student of age that participated in the war and the two had taken it quickly. They began their training the same day Ginny went back to Hogwarts. Hermione, too, had been given the invitation to the Auror program, though she was quick to decline it. For the last few days, she had thought about perhaps accepting the eighth year program Hogwarts was offering to those who were supposed to be in their seventh year but given the circumstances had had to either be on the run, or not learnt much more than Death Eater propaganda.

The Ministry had also instigated a Commemoration Ball to celebrate the defeat of Voldemort last weekend. Despite many protests from Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Order members, Kingsley had had no choice but to approve the Ball to appease the Wizengamot. He had to stay in the position of Minister for Magic in order to cleanse the Ministry and make actual change in Wizarding Britain towards the right direction. In order for that to remain the case, the Wizengamot had to be pacified. Everyone had to attend, or more accurately, be paraded, to promote that the Ministry and the Man-Who-Conquered were standing on the same side. And of course, where the Chosen One was, the rest of the Golden Trio was not far behind. During the Ball, Order of Merlins were given out. Harry, Ron and Hermione as well as the members of the Order of Phoenix were given the Order of Merlin: First Class for their “acts of outstanding bravery in the Second Wizarding War”. Meanwhile, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Draco, Theo and Pansy had all been given Order of Merlin: Second Class for their “endeavor beyond the ordinary”. Each Order of Merlin came with a sizeable pouch of galleons and a handsome golden medal.

Harry had also come through with his promise to Draco to talk to Kingsley about the frozen assets. The Parkinsons were investigated and cleared. Unfortunately, since neither Lucius nor Narcissa Malfoy were in custody, in Azkaban, or deceased, the vaults and the Malfoy assets were still under their name. The same with Theodore Nott Sr. Which, in turn, unfortunately leaves Draco and Theo with nothing despite the two of them being cleared from any association with Death Eaters. However, fortunately, Hermione came up with the brilliant idea of including them in the Order of Merlin. With the award, their names were cleared and they were heralded as heroes. And with the sizeable money, Draco was able to move out of Blaise’s guest bedroom and Theo from the Settinston’s, and into their own flat.

Things had improved over the last two weeks between the two groups. With the Slytherins no longer having to fear people’s misunderstanding of their intentions towards the Gryffindors, and the Gryffindors being protective of the Slytherins, a friendship had been born.

Thus Hermione’s current rage.

Splashed across the _Daily Prophet_ , were photographs of her and Draco sitting together at their table during the Ball. With the angle that the photographs were taken, it looked as though they had kissed, when in reality Hermione only leaned forward in her seat.

“Kill who?” Charlie looked up from his stack of waffles and asked.

“Rita _bloody_ Skeeter.” Hermione was basically growling.

“Don’t let mum hear you say that,” he teased, then at Hermione’s glare, quickly amended. “I mean, what did that _bitch_ do now?”

Hermione merely rolled her eyes and handed him the paper.

**_Slytherin Prince and Gryffindor Princess Together At Last?_ **

_By: Rita Skeeter_

_Ladies and Gentlemen, it had been a long and arduous journey for young Draco Malfoy, from riches to rags and back again. The dramatic tale of the Malfoy heir (more in Page 3) has finally culminated in him getting the woman of his dreams, none other than Hermione Granger last Saturday and this reporter is happy to say that I’ve witnessed it all._

_The happy couple first met in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where they both attended at the same year. Yet, one was a Pureblood with heavy expectations, both familial and in upper class society, the other, a simple Muggleborn. Because of this, our star-crossed lovers had been forced to push aside their young attraction in order to play their part. However, during the Battle of Hogwarts, their love could be hidden no longer._

_According to a very reliable source, the Prince of Slytherin had ran up to his love during the last stand against You-Know-Who and his Death Eater army. The young hero stood beside the love of his life and proclaimed allegiance to the side of the Light and to her, despite the protestations of his parents, Death Eater Lucius Malfoy and known associate Death Eater Narcissa Malfoy, even against his aunt, the deranged Azkaban escapee, Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange._

_The question in this reporters mind now, ladies and gentlemen, is whether Miss Granger is worthy of such affections. This is nothing against the young Gryffindor’s blood status, of course not. It is simply in this reporter’s recollection that the young Gryffindor Princess has been in the habit of breaking hearts before._

_The_ Daily Prophet _was first alerted to the existence of Miss Granger during the Triwizard Tournament when she has played the heartstrings of the Hogwarts champion turned saviour of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter, and the Drumstrung champion and Bulgarian bonbon, Viktor Krum (see Page 4).  
Despite all of this, however, this reporter cannot wait to see how this love story unfolds. Could Mr. Malfoy be the One to sate the heart of our most beloved Muggleborn? Could it be that our star-crossed lovers had been Fated from the beginning? Only time will tell. Stay tuned!_

Charlie carefully placed the paper down before looking at Hermione’s rage-filled face and finally laughing out loud.

Hermione grabbed a tea towel and began hitting him with it repeatedly. “It! Is! Not! Funny! Char-lie Weas-ley!”

“Oh, but it is! I can just imagine our young ‘Slytherin Prince’ running across the battlefield, the sun glinting in his platinum blond hair, as he take you in his arms, defying Voldemort and the gods alike!” Charlie ended dramatically and burst into another round of laughter.

Even Hermione could not stop the twitching of her lips. “Git.” She stood up to put her plate in the sink when Molly came in.

“Leave that there, dear. I’ll be washing in a minute,” said the matriarch. “Charlie, what are you laughing about? They can hear you in Diagon Alley at the rate you’re going!”

“Oh mum, haven’t you heard?” Charlie said. “Apparently, Malfoy could be the one to sate our dear Her –”

Hermione hit him over the head with the tea towel again and stuffed it in his mouth for good measure. When Molly looked at her with an eyebrow raised, she simply shrugged and said, “Skeeter is at it again.”

“Oh, that cow!” muttered Molly, to her surprise.

Charlie spat out the tea towel. “Mum! Language!” he teased.

“What?” Molly said innocently then turned to Hermione. “My dear, I hope you don’t take what she says to heart. That woman has the journalistic integrity of a turnip. I wish people would see how _ridiculous_ those articles are, then she’d lose credibility and people would just stop listening to her.”

It was as if a light bulb clicked in Hermione’s head. “Oh, mum, you are _brilliant_!” she exclaimed and kissed the older woman on the cheek before running up the stairs.

Molly turned to Charlie. “What did I say?”

Charlie smiled. “I don’t know, but knowing Hermione, this is going to be dangerously ingenious.”

***

Hermione waited at the Leaky Cauldron for her friends to arrive. She had specifically chosen a large table right in the middle of the pub, hoping for the maximum effect of her plans. And since the Hogwarts floo networks were open, she had sent a Galleon message to the D.A. to meet her here for lunch.

Within minutes, she spotted Neville, Ginny, Luna, Pansy, Blaise, Theo and his girlfriend Mandy, from Hufflepuff, coming through the floo from Hogwarts one after another, followed by Harry and Ron who came from the Ministry.

All of them looked at each other curiously and questioningly upon seeing Hermione sitting smack in the middle of the pub. Already the Leaky was beginning to get packed because of the lunch hour. And people were looking, taking notice of the group that had arrived.

Hermione stood up and greeted Harry with a kiss on the cheek followed by Ron with a kiss on the lips.

That behaviour alone got the attention of not only her friends but also those around them. Still, Hermione remained calm and casual.

“How is everyone?” she asked conversationally as they began to take their seats. “How are things at the castle?”

“It was normal,” said Theo, sounding bored.

“You got a bloody howler,” said Pansy, looking at him as though wondering what screws were loose in his head. “Three effing times. Being shamed and disowned. Within the first week alone.”

Theo merely shrugged. “As I said, normal.”

Harry and Ron looked like they did not know if they ought to laugh or feel sorry for the bloke.

“Draco’s going to be slightly delayed,” said Blaise, not minding all of them.

“Dean and Seamus send their apologies,” said Neville. “They won’t make it.”

“Yes, their _special talents_ were apparently needed by McGonagall,” said Luna angelically and leaned in a bit. “I think she wants to get rid of the wrackspurt infestation.”

The Slytherins’ head tilted in confusion, making Ginny smirk.

“Oh, that’s alright. Shall we order then?” Hermione asked the group and they all did just that.

Looking at the group, Hermione had to hide a smile. They could not be more different. Neville was wearing his school trousers, school shirt and a knitted vest. Luna was in her green corduroy trousers and a very colourful t-shirt. Ginny was wearing jeans and a three-quarter sleeve grey shirt. Mandy was in a simple black skirt, a white sleeveless top and a cream-coloured cardigan. Ron and Harry were still in their auror robes. And she herself was in a wrap-around long sleeved patterned top and jeans. Meanwhile, Blaise was in an all-black three-piece suit. Pansy was wearing an elegant corseted dress with a lace bodice and sleeves. Theo was wearing a black three-button suit with matching trousers and a dark green shirt.

While waiting for their food and starting on their butterbeers and pumpkin juices, Pansy, unable to wait any longer, leaned over. “Spill, Golden Girl. What the hell is going on?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and subtly waved her wand, casting a _Muffliato_ around their table. “Have you all seen the _Daily Prophet_ today?” she asked back.

The smirks from the Slytherins, Ginny’s snort, Neville’s look of horror, Harry’s cringe and Ron’s slowly reddening face showed they did. Only Luna and Mandy nodded like normal people.

“I know how to combat it,” Hermione said.

“How?” asked Theo. “They are taking turns writing about each one of us. It’s like we’re on rotation.”

Hermione smiled wickedly. “Well, I’ll make sure it stops. Just follow my lead.”

“Now this I got to see,” said Pansy, leaning back on her chair and crossing her arms. Intrigue was all over her face. She looked _very_ Slytherin.

Beside her, Mandy twirled her blonde hair on her finger and smirked. “I knew you were not a goody two shoes.”

“You’re about to see for yourself,” said Hermione, nodding towards the door of the Leaky where Draco had just walked in. He, of course, was also in an all-black suit. Hermione quickly lifted the spell around them.

Draco greeted his fellow Slytherins with a nod as soon as he saw them. But to Harry, he said, “Scar-head” as an acknowledgement before even reaching the table.

“Snake-skull,” replied Harry.

“Weasel.”

“Ferret,” said Ron.

“Red.”

“Blondie,” replied Ginny.

Draco stopped in front of the table and inclined his head. “Cousin.”

“Cousin,” said Luna.

Draco pulled out a chair and looked at Neville with a mocking bow. “O ye Great Beheader of the Snake.”

“O ye Proud Blood Traitor,” replied Neville, bowing his head at Draco with many hand flourishes.

Draco sat down with a smirk and looked at Hermione. He picked up a butterbeer and raised it to her. “Gryffindork.” He drank.

“ _Lover_ ,” said Hermione.

The table in front of Draco was suddenly wetted by the butterbeer he spat out. Their friends were sniggering around them. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” asked Hermione innocently, albeit slightly louder. “We’re apparently lovers, you and I.” She handed him a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from her beaded bag. Draco began to read it. “Not to mention Neville’s apparently getting between Harry and Ginny.” She threw down another copy from a few days ago.

“I am?” Neville asked, befuddled, looking at the article.

“Was this because I was snogging Neville behind _Mandrake Emporium_?” Ginny asked, examining her nails.

“Not this time,” said Harry, catching on. “Apparently, _I_ was snogging Neville behind _Mandrake Emporium_.”

Neville laughed loudly along with Ron and high-fived Harry.

“Neville, you slag,” Pansy teased. “Getting around like that!”

Ginny hit Harry’s arm. “For Godric’s sake, Potter! Can’t you just let me have my affairs in peace?”

There was a smattering of quiet laughter from the patrons of the pub that surrounded them. The group pretended not to hear a thing though, despite the fact that most of the people present was definitely eavesdropping on them.

“Would you look at that?” Draco said, folding the paper away. “Scar-head, she’s replaced you with me. About time your taste improved, Hermione.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and made a show of leaning closer to Ron, who wrapped his arm around her.

“Well, according to Skeeter only time will tell,” said Luna, and in her most angelic voice added, “So be ready for Hermione to break your heart any day now.”

“Yeah, I bet the rivalry between our family’s about to be publicized, mate,” said Ron. “Make sure to practice crying in front of the mirror so you at least know which angle looks good.”

Harry, Ginny and Neville laughed uproariously that one.

“Prat,” muttered Draco.

“Draco, you lucky bloke, getting the woman of your dreams,” said Blaise, eyebrow raised as he read through the article with amusement.

“Oh, and Draco, I never knew you were so romantic,” said Mandy.

“How long have you been secret lovers?” Theo asked, smirking.

Draco took a long pull of his drink. “I don’t know. Evidently, it’s been so secret, we’ve neglected to tell each other.”

This time, there was no mistaking the sound of laughter and the shushing sound that followed around them. Just in time, trays of food levitated towards their table and the conversation moved on to different things.

“So what are you guys planning to do after graduation?” Hermione asked.

“I’m starting my apprenticeship with Sprout come September,” said Neville and he was congratulated by those around the table. “Thanks, I’m very excited about it.”

“I know I have one more year to go,” said Ginny, “but I’m really hoping to get scouted by the Harpies. If Quidditch ever gets going again before my graduation, that is.”

“It will,” said Harry. “And you’ll get in, I’m sure. You’re one of the best players I’ve seen, Gin.”

“Thanks, Harry.” She leaned in to kiss him.

“Oi! We’re eating,” Ron complained. “Don’t start that now.”

“You were basically inhaling Hermione’s face the last time we were at dinner!” Ginny pointed out.

“What about you guys?” Hermione said loudly as she blushed, putting the attention onto the Slytherins, who were smirking once again. “Luna? One more year to go. Are you taking over _The Quibbler_?”

“Oh, not really,” she said airily. “I want to help daddy for a bit, but I want to become a Magizoologist and study magical creatures. Maybe even discover some. I was thinking of going on a sabbatical. But nothing is set in stone yet.”

“I will probably travel to Italy and France for a while,” said Blaise. “I haven’t seen my mother in ages. It’s time I mend that.”

Pansy sighed and shrugged. “I haven’t made up my mind, to be honest. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“We’re pretty much on the same boat then,” Hermione told her. “What about you two?”

Mandy and Theo looked at each other before Theo nodded at her supportively. “After graduation, I was planning on building my own company,” she said. “I want to report actual and reliable news, so I wanted to build the _Wizarding Herald_.”

Those around the table voiced their congratulations and support, none more so than Harry, Ron and Hermione.

“That’s fantastic, Mandy!” said Harry enthusiastically. Understandable, since there has never been an issue of the _Prophet_ without a mention or a photograph or an article of him since the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament until now. “Why don’t you?”

“Yeah, you sounded uncertain,” said Ron.

Mandy smiled sadly. “Well, it’s just that I know this is big, but the thing is…” She hesitated and looked at Theo, who sighed.

“The thing is,” he continued for her, “I promised her I would support her with the money to fund the paper. But since they froze my family’s vault, we have limited funds. Even if we were to put our money together, it would not be enough in the long run.” He took her hand. “But don’t you worry about that. I’ll take a job somewhere, love.” Theo looked at Mandy as if she was the whole world. “I made a promise to you. I want to fulfil it.”

Mandy kissed his cheek, but whispered, “We’ll talk about it.”

“What about you, Hermione?” Ginny asked. “Still no clue?”

“ _Absolutely_ no clue,” Hermione answered with a frown.

***

The Scottish Dragon Reserve was not very large and compared to the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary it was relatively new. However, Charlie decided to move there shortly after the war to be closer to his family, and he did not regret his decision. At the moment, they were tending to five grown dragons in the reserve, three small ones and an egg.

Charlie still had a smile on his face from watching the baby Opaleye, now taller than his knees, tumble and roll around in its nest. Charlie was watching him all day today since he had been sick days before. To see him so lively, even responding to Charlie and allowing him to play, filled his heart with joy.

Waving goodbye to his workmates, Charlie made his way to the floo and called for home. The moment he appeared, he paused, then made his way to the living room where a heated discussion was being held.

Hermione and Ron were facing each other on the couch, both red in the face, though Ron was still fighting a smile. It made Charlie shake his head; his brother was in too deep with this girl.

“It’s technically a wyvern,” Hermione was saying. “Dragons have two legs, two arms and two wings. Wyverns only have two legs and two wings, no arms!”

“Yeah, but it’s still a dragon, isn’t it?” Ron said.

“I just said it isn’t –”

“Yeah, but it’s still a dragon – a fire-breathing reptile.”

“And wyverns are what – puppies with scales?”

“They’ve been at it for two hours,” Harry said, catching Charlie’s attention. He was sitting perpendicular to the couch playing Wizard’s chess against Percy.

“Two and a half,” Percy corrected. “Dad had to move to his shed just to get away.”

“There’s Charlie!” Ron said. “He’d know!”

Hermione groaned exasperatedly and turned to him. “Afternoon, Charlie,” she greeted with a put-on smile.

“My brother annoying you?” Charlie asked, plunking himself down on an armchair and folding up his flannel shirt to his elbows.

“Will you please tell her dragons and those wavers –”

“Wy-verns,” Hermione stressed out.

“Sure,” said Ron. “Same thing right?”

“No,” said Charlie.

Hermione looked smug and Ron looked aghast.

“What! Of course, they are. They’re all bloody dragons, aren’t they?”

“The general populace call all of them dragons,” said Charlie. “They see a large scaly beast that breathes fire, that’s automatically a dragon to them. But Hermione’s right. When a beast has two arms and two legs and two wings, _that_ is a dragon. When a beast has two legs and two wings, but no arms, it’s technically called a wyvern. Then there’s a drake, which has –”

“Two arms and two legs but no wings,” said Hermione. “They are also smaller than dragons and wyverns.”

From the chess table, Harry laughed while Percy looked proud, like he expected nothing less from her.

“Seven years and you’d think he’s learnt not to argue with Hermione by now,” said Harry.

“You seem quite knowledgeable about this stuff, Hermione,” said Charlie.

“Dragons are very interesting,” she replied, as though it should have been obvious. “I must admit, I pored over books and books about them when we were in first year. But then schoolwork needed prioritizing, until, well, you remember the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Do you still find them interesting?” Charlie asked and Hermione blushed. “What?”

Ron laughed beside her. “She’s been stealing your books for weeks now.”

Hermione hit his arm. “I put them back!”

Charlie chuckled, too. “I don’t mind if you read them. Must be boring with just you and mum here for days.”

“It’s not that bad. But I do get bored with nothing much to do. And… well…”

“It’s okay, you can say it,” said Harry. “You miss studying.”

“I miss _learning_ ,” she corrected.

“Same difference,” muttered Ron. Hermione chose to ignore him.

“Why don’t you apply for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?” suggested Percy. As soon as it left his lips, Harry and Ron howled in laughter and Hermione turned bright red.

“What is it?” Charlie asked, but nobody answered him.

“Under the Beast Division,” Percy continued, “there’s a sub-department called Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau. You might find that interesting, Hermione.”

“Interesting, sure,” said Hermione. “But I’m not sure it’s what I want to do with my life.”

“It’s no SPEW, that’s for sure,” said Ron and he and Harry roared into laughter once more.

Hermione rolled her eyes and threw pillows at them.

“What’s spew?” Charlie asked.

“It’s S.P.E.W. and it stands for Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,” said Hermione matter-of-factly. “It’s an organization I started during our fourth year. And we stand against the gross injustice in the treatments of house-elves everywhere.”

“She tried to set the lot at Hogwarts free by knitting them beanies and mittens,” said Harry.

“Those were socks!” said Hermione.

“Didn’t look it,” said Ron.

“It did near the end,” said Harry. “Sort of.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Charlie. “What do you mean you were setting them free?”

Hermione bristled. “No creature should be forced into slavery.”

“I know that, and I agree,” said Charlie. “But house-elves live to serve.”

Hermione groaned. “Not you, too, Charlie.”

The older redhead leaned forward in his chair and regarded her patiently. “I’m not saying it’s their place, Mione. I’m saying it’s their purpose. Without it, they are lost.”

“Dobby wasn’t,” Hermione said in a small voice.

“Dobby stayed at Hogwarts still and he voluntarily helped those he felt loyalty towards,” said Charlie with a reminiscent smile. “Perhaps house-elves that suffer from mistreatment from their masters need freeing. But without someone to tether their lives to, without – for want of a better word – a master, house-elves grow depressed and are more likely to neglect themselves and become despondent.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione bowed their heads in remembrance of Winky, the Crouch family’s house-elf, that had taken to depression and drinking after being set free.

“But,” Charlie continued, sensing the mood. “With a kind master, house-elves tend to grow into health and even live hundreds of years old. As long as they have a family they can pour their love and care and loyalty to, they prosper.” He smiled. “Serving is in a house-elf’s nature, Hermione, much like learning is ingrained in yours or cooking and caring is in our mum’s.”

Hermione nodded. “I think I get it now. The Hogwarts house-elves do seem happy.”

“They are, and our dear McGonagall will continually ensure that it remains that way, just like Dumbledore did.”

As though timed perfectly, Molly called everyone for dinner. Percy and Harry paused their match and made their way over. Ron ran as soon as he heard the word dinner. Charlie could only roll his eyes. What a gentleman his brother was, he thought sarcastically and gestured for Hermione to go first. She had just passed him when she took a shuddering breath and all the lights blew out before Charlie felt Hermione collapse onto him.

***

Oliver Wood was stepping out of his mother’s bedroom after ensuring she ate the broth that the house-elf brought when he felt the earth beneath his feet give a great jolt. A loud rumbling sounded from the grounds.

“Oliver!”

His mother’s cry caused him to move quickly back inside her quarters. Without hesitation, he jumped onto the bed and held her.

“What was that?” Oliver asked. In all his life, he had never experienced such a thing. “Is there a disturbance in the wards?” he asked, his first thoughts going to the war.

“Nae,” said his mother. Her emerald eyes were wide and glued to the window that overlooked the loch down the way from the property. For the first time in a long time, they held hope. “See what caused it. Go. Be careful.” She pushed him out of bed with strength he could have sworn she did not possess mere minutes ago when he had to feed her. Nevertheless, Oliver did not comment and went to investigate, as his mother bid him.

The Wood manor sat in a vast and sacred ground. They were on a cliff that overlooked a loch with trees and mountains all around. He had walked these grounds since he was but a wee lad.

Oliver used the last remainder of the sun still hovering over the horizon to guide him through the grounds until he reached the rocky edge where a waterfall now poured out of the cliff, its waters reflecting the red of the sunset, making it look like fire.

Under the earth where he stood, he heard the growling of a great beast.


	7. Scars of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!! We're here!!! It's 2021!!!
> 
> Sorry for the long absence. I went out of town and just got back. Just for that you get a double wammy and I'm uploading two chapters back to back. Then maybe one more at the end of the week for funzies.
> 
> Thank you all for reading this story and for tuning in. I hope you're all enjoying the holidays and taking care of yourselves and resting. Stay safe!

Charlie found himself sat once again in the waiting area of St. Mungo’s Janus Thickey ward, awaiting the Healer to inform them of Hermione’s situation. She had passed out without seeming provocation or cause. Molly had intended to simply lay her on the couch and wait for her to wake up, thinking perhaps she was exhausted. Charlie’s thoughts ran in a similar route, knowing she was still not sleeping properly. However, that all went out the window when she began to convulse. Without second thought, Charlie carried her in his arms and told his mother to throw in floo powder at the fireplace for him before crying out for St. Mungo’s. The healers came with a stretcher upon his shouting for help and one diagnostic spell later they were rolling her away to the fourth floor, citing an emergency.

Harry wanted to follow but was blocked by an assistant healer, saying that only family members were allowed to stay in the hospital with the patient and they were to leave immediately. That was the wrong thing to say.

“She’s _my sister_! I _am_ her family!” Harry bellowed at the poor woman, who seemed to have recognized him by then and paled extensively before escorting them to the fourth floor and leaving them alone.

That had been three hours ago. Fred and George had arrived in minutes after Arthur sent them a patronus informing them of the situation, and none of them had moved except to comfort each other and occasionally pace.

A dark skinned mediwitch with cropped grey hair approached them just after nine. “Are you Miss Granger’s family?” she asked.

“Yes,” Harry quickly answered, standing up. “How is she? What’s happened to her?”

The rest of the family surrounded him.

“Mister Potter and the Weasleys, I assume, I’m Healer Lance,” she introduced. “Miss Granger has undergone a strenuous amount of stress. Her body exhibits lingering traces of dark magic, fatigue, and malnutrition.”

Molly paled. Whether it was at the information of dark magic, which was news to them, or malnutrition, after she had created feast after feast to feed the girl, Charlie was not sure.

More concerning, however, was the fact that Ron and Harry looked terrified.

“Her magical core is also… misbehaving,” the Healer said, her brows knitting together.

“What does that mean?” Molly asked.

“When she was brought here, it was pulsating,” Healer Lance explained. “For a time, it was getting stronger and stronger, as though her magic was pushing outwards, reaching. None of us could do much to calm it down. None of our spells could pierce through her magic, neither were we strong enough to try to contain it. Then out of nowhere, it began to fluctuate.” She frowned. “I believe Miss Granger’s magical core has been damaged. Given the war and the fact that she was at the forefront of it all, I can understand.”

While listening intently to her explanation, Charlie observed Harry and Ron. At the mention of the war, they looked like they were going to be sick.

“No, you can’t,” Harry said quietly and looked around, checking if they were being eavesdropped upon. Unsatisfied by the clear hallways at this time of night, Harry put up a silencing charm around them non-verbally. The mediwitch raised a curious brow.

“Hermione’s been tortured,” Harry said.

Understanding came upon the Healer. Horror came upon everyone else.

“I see,” said Healer Lance. “We will have to keep Miss Granger here for a few days to see how she fares. We have given her a Sleeping Draught potion to allow her to rest, which should help with the exhaustion. I’ve also scheduled for her to be given a Nutrition potion to balance the needs of her body. After she wakes, we will see if there is any difference in her diagnosis. Then we will proceed accordingly.”

Harry nodded. “Can we see her?” he asked.

“You are allowed to visit during visiting hours, but I’m assuming you’d want to stay?”

“Yes,” Harry and Ron chorused.

“I cannot allow too many visitors for the patient. This is still a hospital and we still have rules. Please adhere to them. Only one may stay with Miss Granger. Good night.” With that, she left.

“I’ll stay,” Harry said quickly, looking at Ron as though asking for permission. The redhead nodded.

“I’ll tell Berthanelli. But you send me a patronus the minute she wakes up, understand?”

Harry nodded back and bid the family good night before heading as quickly as he could to Hermione’s room.

The Weasleys shuffled in silence to the ground floor, head swimming at the news, and flooed home. The minute they arrived, Molly turned to her youngest son as the rest took their seats around the living room.

“Explain. Now, young man.”

Ron collapsed on the couch and ran a hand down his face. He looked down at the empty seat beside him where merely hours before, Hermione sat. “We triggered the Taboo,” he said. “After months and months of nothing, we finally had a solid lead and one horcrux down. We stumbled on Potter Watch in the wireless.” He gave a small smile to the twins. “The one where you interviewed Remus and Kingsley and said that Voldemort’s abroad. It gave us hope. And we slipped. Said his name.”

Charlie noticed Ron’s use of the universal “we”. There must be something he was protecting or something he was hiding. Then he remembered Harry’s words to Ron back at the lake. Ron had left.

This must have happened after he returned. Perhaps it was why they only knew about the taboo and Potter Watch then. Charlie decided to leave it for now.

“Snatchers showed up, Greyback being one of them,” Ron continued. “Hermione cast a spell on Harry to disfigure his face. We said he’d been stung. They asked us who we were. We lied through out teeth. They were close to believing us until one of them recognized Hermione from the _Prophet_ , which said that she was travelling with Harry Potter. So they threw us in a wagon with others they’ve caught and brought us to Malfoy Manor.” Ron ran a hand down his face and there was that haunted look in his eyes again, the same one Charlie saw in him when they were in McGonagall’s office discussing their horcrux hunt.

Molly sat beside her son and wrapped an arm around him comfortingly. “What happened in Malfoy manor?”

“Bellatrix,” Ron whispered.

George stood up and began to pace. Fred looked pale but placed his elbows to his knees and continued to give Ron his full attention. Percy looked like he did not want to hear the rest of the story, but was forcing himself to. Arthur and Molly were filled with compassion, though Charlie could tell his parents were steeling themselves for whatever came next. Charlie himself felt helpless. He knew it was already finished and nothing could be done to stop it, yet still he wished with every fiber of his being that he could stop it. Whatever ‘it’ was.

“When we got there,” said Ron, his voice hollow, resigned; Charlie got the impression that his little brother shared his feelings, “Lucius Malfoy was the one to greet us along with his wife. Neither of them could tell for sure if it was Harry, so they called Draco. He lied and said he could not tell. It most likely wasn’t. They asked him about Hermione, about me. He denied the whole thing. Then Bellatrix arrived. She wanted to be the one to call Voldemort. She and Lucius were fighting about it, until she saw the sword of Gryffindor with us.”

“With you?” George stopped his pacing and looked at his youngest brother. “What do you mean it was with you? How?”

“We found it at the bottom of a lake.”

“How?” Fred asked again.

“Snape.” Ron left it at that and continued with his story. “Bellatrix flipped. She killed the snatchers, knocked out Greyback and started shouting how we got the sword when it was supposed to be in her vault. Then she…” Ron took a deep breath. “She ordered for me and Harry and the others to be thrown to the dungeons. She wanted to _talk_ to Hermione, alone. Draco protested, but Bellatrix backhanded him and his father shoved him away, told him to take his mother elsewhere. The implication of a threat was there; even we heard it.” He looked disgusted, then his features changed to haunted. There was a heartbreaking look in his eyes, and Charlie knew Ron blamed himself. “I tried to stop it. I tried to fight them to get Hermione back. But…” he shook his head. “She screamed and screamed. Bellatrix had her under the Cruciatus. And all I could think about was Neville’s parents. I screamed for her, begged for her. Nothing. Useless.” Ron leant his elbows to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

“The Healer said Hermione had lingering traces of dark magic,” Charlie recalled. “What does that mean?”

Ron shook his head before pushing his fingers through his hair. “Bellatrix carved her arm with a cursed knife.”

Charlie felt bile at the back of his throat. Percy blanched, looking sick to his stomach. George slowly crumpled to the floor until he was kneeling, his complexion pale. Fred was the opposite. Red faced and contorted with anger, he got up and punched the wall repeatedly until his knuckles bled.

“Fred! Fred! FREDRICK GIDEON WEASLEY, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Arthur said sternly.

Fred stopped but his face was still contorted in anger.

“We got out of there, thanks to Dobby,” Ron said. “Draco sent him. Brought us to Bill and Fleur’s. He died saving us.”

“They knew?” Fred and George asked, aghast.

“They did what they could to heal her, but it’s a cursed knife. It’ll never truly heal.”

“Why didn’t they say anything?” Fred asked.

“We asked them not to. Hermione asked them not to.”

“And how are you lot coping?” Percy asked.

“We don’t sleep very well,” Ron admitted in a small voice. “Harry and I still wake up in the middle of the night sometimes to check on each other. If the nightmares are bad, we have to check on Hermione, too. In the morning, we panic when we don’t see her. It doesn’t make sense, we know. The war is over, we’re safe and we’re home. But that’s how it is.”

“For a while, all you had was each other,” Charlie said. “You three have been facing things we wouldn’t even dream about for years. It makes sense that you feel comforted by one another. After everything that’s happened, it’s normal to feel protective.”

Molly nodded her agreement. “You should have told us sooner, dear. We could have helped you, at the very least, even just to listen.”

Ron did not respond, but Charlie could read the guilt in his eyes, the self-blame. He leaned forward on his chair.

“It’s not your fault.”

Ron looked at him.

“It’s _not_ your fault.”

Anger crossed his brother’s features.

“Ron, it’s not your fault. You did what you could –”

“And it was not enough!” interrupted Ron. “I didn’t stop it. I didn’t stop her from getting hurt.”

“There were many things we couldn’t stop, son,” Arthur said. “And it breaks my heart that you three have had to carry this war on your shoulders, believe me. But it will do no good for you to blame yourself. This was war. People get hurt and people die. What we _can_ do now is help each other cope and heal.”

“Your father’s right,” said Molly. “We can support Hermione and you and Harry now that we know. But we can’t help with things we don’t, dear. We can face this together.”

Ron nodded, but Charlie could see it was not sinking in. “I’ll go off to bed. I have an early day tomorrow.” With that, he left.

“What can we do?” George asked, sitting down on the ottoman.

“Get Bellatrix and repay her in kind?” Fred volunteered.

“Now, I won’t have you two thinking that way!” Molly pointed her finger at her sons. “This is not how I’ve raised you boys!”

“Mum, Death Eaters roam free while Hermione’s in hospital!” said Fred.

“And hunting down Bellatrix is going to get Hermione out, is it?” Molly retorted, hands on her hips.

“Boys, now is not the time to be rash,” said Arthur rationally. “Now is the time to build each other up. Instead on focusing on vengeance, let’s focus on Hermione, Ron and Harry. They need us. Talk to them, show you support them. _Be there_ for them.”

“Dad’s right,” said Molly. “Vengeance does not help with healing, boys. All it does is take focus and screw up perspective. I expect better from you.”

Fred and George nodded, but Charlie could already see a plan forming between his brothers as they glanced at each other in silent communication. He sighed. It’s time for some brother-to-brother talk.

***

In the early hours of the morning, Hermione woke up from the best sleep she had had in a while, yet still felt tired and drained. She opened her eyes to the soft haze of the sun peaking on the horizon, bathing the stark white room she was in in a golden glow. She looked to her right and saw Harry asleep with his head perched sideways on his arms. Lifting up her hand, she ran his fingers through his hair, his forever-messy-despite-the-length hair.

Harry stirred and blearily looked up at her. Then everything clicked and his eyes went wide. “Hermione, you’re awake!” he said, voice hoarse from sleep.

Hermione smiled and replied in a soft voice. “Yes, I am. I dreamt of dragons, Harry, and a waterfall made of fire.”

“That’s nice. Should I call the Healer?”

Hermione shook her head. “Can you help me sit up a bit?”

Harry touched the bed with his wand and it rose up until she was on an angle. Hermione then shimmied to the left, inviting Harry to sit on the bed with her. The latter obliged, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she wrapped her arm around his waist.

“Remember when you got sick while we were on the run?” Hermione asked in a whisper. “Your fever was so high. I got so scared.”

“I remember you singing to me,” Harry said with a smile. “Is this payback, then? Because you sure scared me, all of us, really.”

“Hmm…” Hermione’s eyes were drooping again and she looked so pale. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just focus on getting better, okay?”

“Hmm… Harry?”

“Yes, Hermione?”

“Will you sing to me, please?”

Harry pushed a lock of hair out of his sister’s face, grateful that she had closed her eyes if only to save her being concerned by the tears in his eyes.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_

_You make me happy when skies are grey_

_You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you_

_Please don’t take my sunshine away_

“Sing it again,” Hermione whispered and snuggled closer to him, seeking warmth.

Harry repeated the song until he was sure she was asleep, and he could barely hold back the sobs.

***

His mother shaking his shoulder as he slumped over the kitchen table awaked Charlie. He had gone down after hearing Ron sneaking out of the Burrow around midnight, planning to wait up for his brother. That did not work out. He was in the middle of breakfast with his parents and Percy when Harry’s patronus showed up, asking him to bring Hermione’s bag before he went to work.

At half-past seven, Charlie arrived in St. Mungo’s with Hermione’s beaded bag, which was heavier than he had anticipated for such a small thing. As he silently opened the door to her room, he found Harry beside Hermione on the bed, singing a heartbreaking song with tears in his eyes. Charlie closed the door slowly and Harry, noticing the movement, wiped his face but did not look away from Hermione.

“I’ve just gotten her to fall asleep,” he said softly to Charlie, slowly untangling himself from his sister.

Charlie walked towards them. “How is she doing?”

“She’s weak and she’s sick.” Harry’s bottom lip quivered as he looked up at the redhead. “Charlie, I can’t lose her. I can’t. I can deal with everything else. I can do the war all over again. But I can’t lose her. I’ll break – I’ll break if –”

Charlie pulled the black-haired boy and hugged him. “You won’t. You won’t, Harry. She’s strong. Our Hermione is very strong, and very powerful, and she will make it through this like she did with everything else.”

“Why couldn’t I save her?” Harry asked, sobbing and grabbing at his flannel shirt. “I did with everyone else, except her. And she stood beside me, never left me. Do you know what she’s had to sacrifice for me, Charlie? Everything. She gave up everything and I couldn’t even save her.”

Charlie found himself saying what he said to Ron the night before. “It’s not your fault, Harry. Hermione made her own choices in this war and she did what she thought was best given the hand she was dealt.”

“A hand she would not have been dealt with had she not been friends with me!” Harry responded petulantly.

Charlie held him at arms length and made sure to look him in the eye. “Being friends with you had nothing to do with it. She is a muggleborn and the brightest witch of her age. Do you mean to tell me she would not have had a target on her back if she had not been friends with you? It was _her choice_ , Harry, and not one that she regrets in the slightest.”

Harry took a deep, albeit shaky, breath.

“She loves you. You’re her family,” said Charlie. “And if she were awake, hearing you blame yourself for the choices _she made for herself_ , you would’ve been hexed by now.”

The corner of Harry’s lips tilted up.

“That’s it. There's the Harry I know.” Charlie patted him on the shoulder with a smile and looked around, then paused. “Um, Harry? Is there a disembodied leg on that couch or am I seeing things?”

Harry chuckled. “Oh, yeah, that reminds me.” He grabbed the beaded bag from Charlie, opened it and pointed his wand. “ _Accio_ Pepper-Up Potion.”

A vial of red potion shot up and Harry grabbed it. Going over to where the leg was, he pulled the invisibility cloak and revealed Ron. “He came here around three in the morning absolutely pissed,” he told Charlie. “I transfigured one of the chairs to a couch and let him pass out. The invisibility cloak was just a precaution in case one of the healers came.” He shook Ron to wake him and thrust the potion onto his face. “Drink. Use the shower. Hurry up.”

Ron took a big gulp, his ears emitting smoke, and looked slightly better afterwards. He waddled to the bathroom without another glance to the room.

“He left around midnight,” Charlie said. “He told us what happened while you were on the run.”

Harry nodded.

“He told us about Malfoy manor.”

Harry stilled.

“The twins wanted to hunt down Bellatrix by the time he got done.”

“I’ll join them,” Harry said.

“Dad talked them out of it.”

“Oh well.”

“We need to focus on healing, Harry. We need each other, all of us. Please don’t keep this to yourselves. You’ve carried this burden long enough. Now that we have time, let’s use it wisely.”

Harry looked at Charlie as though he was looking for something in the older man’s eyes. Then he nodded and sighed, looking back at Hermione. “I don’t know how to help her with her nightmares,” he said.

“What about _your_ nightmares?”

He counted them on his fingers. “Voldemort killing me in the forest and everyone burying me because they thought I was dead and I couldn’t tell them otherwise.” Next finger. “Hermione being tortured in Malfoy manor.” Next finger. “Ginny being tortured in Malfoy manor.” Next finger. “The horcrux convincing Ron of its lies and Ron killing me instead.” His thumb. “Bellatrix having me under the Cruciatus until I lost my mind, and Hermione watching all of it screaming, but unable to do anything other than watch.”

“Damn.” Charlie did not know what to say to that. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ron said you check on each other some nights? And that you panic when Hermione’s not in her room in the morning?”

Harry nodded. “I panic when I don’t see her for a long time. Every day after work, I’m anxious to get home, just to make sure she’s there and she’s okay. The last time she was out of my sight, she was tortured, and I think my brain hasn’t really understood that it’s over now.” He gave a humourless chuckle. “Separation anxiety at its finest, ladies and gentlemen.”

“I think time will help with that, Harry,” Charlie said. “Time to assure yourself that she’s fine, that she’ll be okay. If it will help, talk to her about it, too. I’m sure she’s just as concerned for you and Ron.”

Harry nodded. “I know she is.”

“Then train yourself and healing will come. Just take it one day at a time.”

“I can do that. One day at a time.”

In the bathroom, the shower stopped.

Harry opened he small bag again and to Charlie’s surprise, pulled out clothes for Ron and a towel. He went to the bathroom to hand it over to his friend and came back.

“What the hell is that bag?” Charlie asked.

“Undetectable Extension Charm,” Harry answered. “Highly illegal, so neither of us know anything about it, okay?”

Charlie smiled. “Got it.” Hermione just exceeded his expectations.

***

When Hermione woke up once again, it was to the sound of Molly and Harry speaking lowly. She heard mentions of the hunt and the manor and Harry’s nightmares. Surprisingly, she featured in them. Molly seemed to comfort him and encourage him to speak some more, to which Hermione was grateful. Harry had the tendency to blame himself even in things for which he had no control and she was glad he was talking to someone with enough sense to make him see truth. Or to pommel him should the need arise.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a Healer, who, once she saw Hermione awake, introduced herself as Healer Lance. Apparently, her magic was fluctuating and she was stressed and malnourished. Not really a surprise; she barely had much of an appetite and her stomach hurt if she ate too much.

A thought entered unbidden to Hermione’s mind. The only time she had been able to fully finish a big meal was when she had breakfast with Oliver Wood in the Hogwarts’ kitchen. She frowned. What was she supposed to do with that information?

“What do you recommend then?” Harry asked the healer, bringing Hermione back to the present.

“She shouldn’t be stressed,” said Healer Lance. “And she should eat healthy meals three times a day and sleep at least eight hours without the aid of potions.”

“Easier said than done,” Hermione muttered to herself.

“When can she leave?” Harry asked.

“When we’re sure her magical core is stable. Otherwise, she might suffer blackouts again.”

“Thank you, Healer Lance,” said Harry and the healer left. Meanwhile, Molly was fluffing Hermione’s pillows for her.

“Hear that, dear? You should be eating more.”

“I do try, mum, but I simply can’t eat too much anymore.”

“Your body just need to get used to food again,” Molly insisted. “Perhaps soup and bread and nothing too heavy for a while, but still packed with nutrients. I’ll go talk to the Healer, see if she has anything to recommend.” With that, the matriarch left.

“I don’t know if I want to strangle that healer or thank her,” Hermione said. “Eight hours’ sleep? Oh is that what I need? Why have I never thought of that! Let me just tell my nightmares to shut it; give me a second.”

Harry laughed.

“Where the hell did she go to school at?” Hermione crossed her arms over her chest petulantly.

“Merlin, I missed you being conscious,” Harry said and grinned when she scowled at him. “By the way, mum brought this over. It looked important.”

He handed her an envelope of navy and royal blue with the Australian Ministry of Magic emblem addressed to her name.

Hermione immediately grabbed it and tore it open. She hastily read the letter. Halfway through her breathing stopped altogether.

“Hermione?” Harry called, but she did not respond.

“No. No, no, no, no, no,” she muttered. Tears blurred her vision, but she wiped them and reread it again. “No, please, no, no, no.”

“Hermione, what is it?”

Instead of an answer, Hermione screamed in absolute, heart-shattering agony.

***

Charlie stood with Adrian and Oliver in the drawing room of Wood manor. They were sent there to investigate what Oliver had heard, yet they found no living being, trapped or otherwise, by or under the cliff. Confused, Oliver had told them what he had experienced, when yet again, the earth gave a great jolt. They had to cling to nearby furniture to remain standing. Several vases were heard shattering.

“Like tha’!” Oliver exclaimed. “It was just like tha’ an’ then there was this –”

A groan from earth was heard, loud enough to cause alarm. Charlie looked at Adrian and knew they could not deny it. It sounded like a dragon.

Before either of them could comment on it, a patronus landed in front of them and spoke in the voice of the Reserve’s directorial manager, Marcus Caine. “Charlie, Adrian, there’s something wrong with the dragons. Get here. Now!”

“We’ll come back soon, Oli,” said Adrian, already running towards the fireplace with Charlie on his heels. “Take care of ma!”

And they were gone.

Both did not notice the blonde woman with emerald green eyes that was stood by the doorway.

“It’s starting, Oli. It’s starting,” she said.


	8. Downpour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the second one for the day! Enjoy!

_When it rains, it pours._

That was how the muggle saying went, according to Harry. Every window in the left side of the hospital within the third, fourth and fifth floors were shattered. Healers came into Hermione’s room and when they were not able to calm her, they stunned her. Four were not enough. It took six stunners for Hermione to pass out.

Molly was in an absolute panic and Harry was pulling out his hair, unsure what to do, who else to call. Arthur was summoned and he told Percy, who in turn informed Kingsley, before both came to the hospital. Ron was pulled out of training and Fred and George were sent a patronus. They closed shop immediately. Ginny was personally accompanied by McGonagall, who had to stop the rest of their friend group from coming as well with the promise that she would inform them of what happened and how Hermione was doing upon her return. Fleur came ahead of Bill straight from work.

By the time Charlie arrived in the room, they were already talking to the healer.

“… very much unstable,” Healer Lance was saying. “I have never seen anything like it in all my thirty years in this hospital. Mr. Potter, I do have to ask, was Miss Granger under blood magic at any point?”

“No!” Harry said immediately. “She was put under the Cruciatus and questioned. That bitch Bellatrix carved her arm with a cursed knife. Other than that, there was no ritual or blood magic that occurred. Not that I’m aware of.”

“He iz correct,” said Fleur. “Zey came to me and my ‘usband after ze incident. I was ze one to look over ‘Ermione. Beel and I are Curse Breakers; I would ‘ave known if zer was blood magic involved.”

The Healer nodded in thought.

“Why did you ask?” inquired Bill.

“One of the theories that my colleagues and I have is that Miss Granger seem to be attached to a force stronger than herself. Do not mistake me, she is a strong witch, but two stunners can blow even a powerful witch away. Four should have incapacitated her. And yet it took six to make her lose consciousness.”

Charlie’s eyes were wide, and he may have forgotten how to breathe.

“What are you saying?” McGonagall asked, dreading the implication.

Healer Lance pursed her lips, as though thinking of a way to word it. “Miss Granger seems to be sharing her life force with something very powerful. Whatever magic it is, it protected her from responding to our spells the way one normally would. The difference now compared to last night is that there is a clear impetus for her magic to go haywire. She is grieving, and so her magic is pulsating, reaching out towards this something. And the main reason why it is fluctuating could be that there is nothing to stable it at the moment.”

The adults in the room took a deep breath and so did Bill and Fleur. Charlie did not miss the look his parents shared, which was eerily similar to what his older brother and sister-in-law did, too.

“Is there anything that can be done at the moment?” McGonagall asked.

Healer Lance shook her head. “I’m afraid it is going to be a waiting game for now.”

“Will she be alright?” Ron asked.

“Once her magic settles, yes, I believe so.” With that, the healer left.

Harry and Ron positioned themselves on either side of Hermione’s bed, with Ginny sitting beside Harry. Meanwhile, Fred and George were standing side by side at the foot of the bed.

“What’s going on?” Charlie asked his brothers, but both Bill and Percy shrugged too.

“Hermione received a letter from the Australian ministry,” said Molly.

That statement, in addition to the knowledge Charlie had of _who_ was in Australia, caused dread to stir in his gut. It was only confirmed when his mother said, “The Ministry identified her parents as a couple that had died in a car crash a month ago.”

Charlie fell to the seat behind him and buried his face in his hands. It was not Hermione’s fault but she would surely blame herself for it anyway.

Beside him, Percy sighed heavily. “She’s already been through so much. Too much.”

Charlie could not help but agree.

“Did you hear what the healer said?” McGonagall’s voice was quiet.

Arthur, Molly, Bill and Fleur nodded, but Charlie felt like he and Percy was missing out on key information.

“It sounds like it, doesn’t it?” said Arthur.

“But zer are no marks,” said Fleur.

“How would we know? She’s always wearing long sleeves,” said Molly.

“If it _is_ what we think,” said Bill, “then the healer would have said something by now. Asked for a name or _something_.”

“Which only means it _isn’t_ what we think it is, then,” said McGonagall.

“I’m sorry,” said Percy. “What do we think it is?”

“Fated,” said Bill.

***

Molly sent Ginny back to Hogwarts with McGonagall, though the young girl adamantly disagreed. Charlie was certain his sister was so close to demanding their mother perform a witch’s oath to call her should anything happen, before Harry intervened, promising her she would be sent a patronus if needed.

Fred and George were uncharacteristically quiet, which concerned Charlie to no end. He could hear them whispering things like “if lit on fire” and “cocooned to perfection” and “for Hermione”. Before he could talk to them, however, the boys bid everyone farewell and left in haste. Charlie was getting a headache imagining every possible scenario that those things could bring. None that he could come up with were good. Hence the headache.

Percy was the next to leave, asking if it would be okay to brief Kingsley, since the Minister was inquiring as well. Harry gave his approval. It was when Harry asked if Percy could talk to his Head Auror for some more days off that Molly intervened.

The matriarch told Harry he should go back to training. The protest was already on the boy’s lips when Molly pointed out that Hermione treasured education and valued it greatly. If she were to find out that Harry was neglecting it, and on the guise of caring for her, she would throw a fit.

Harry finally relented and headed for the door. Ron went after kissing Hermione on the cheek. He held her hand, but glared at her forearm before leaving without looking anyone in the eye.

Charlie looked at Bill, who saw it, too. But instead of curiosity, there was resignation in Bill’s eyes. Like he understood why Ron reacted that way. Then it clicked for Charlie. Bill did know. Because he and Fleur looked after Hermione after she was tortured.

Charlie was out of his chair in an instant and on the left side of Hermione’s bed. Carefully, he lifted her hand and pushed back her hospital gown to reveal –

“Charlie, dear?” Molly asked. “What are you – oh Merlin.”

Marring Hermione’s left forearm was the word ‘MUDBLOOD’.

Charlie wanted to scream, he wanted to overturn tables and punch walls and break windows. He wanted to break Bellatrix’s bones with his bare hands. He wanted to drag her to the reserve and feed her to a dragon.

It was not until he felt Bill’s hand on his shoulder that Charlie realized he was shaking with anger. He tried to calm himself with deep breaths, but found he couldn’t, so he laid Hermione’s hand gently back down and locked himself in the bathroom. He cast a quick silencing spell and proceeded to scream and demolish what he could.

He remembered her crying to him about her fears of being unable to bring her parents’ memories back. He remembered her trying to comfort those who were injured in battle and helping with the children who were sent to Azkaban for being Muggleborns. He remembered watching her put on a brave face and going to _every single funeral_. She was just eighteen.

Then he remembered comforting her that day during breakfast. He remembered making her laugh. He remembered comforting Ron and Harry and they, in turn, passing the wisdom they have learnt from him to her.

Charlie made up his mind. He would do whatever it took to help them heal. Then, he would help them prepare. If it meant encouraging and pushing Harry and Ron to study harder, so be it. If it meant poring over career choices with Hermione, so be it. If it meant teaching them dueling techniques or survival techniques, whatever it may be, then so be it. Charlie would do whatever it took.

Waving his wand and setting the bathroom to rights once more, Charlie splashed cold water on his face then walked out.

***

When Hermione woke, they said three days had passed. Healers did tests upon tests on her, ran diagnostic after diagnostic, and found nothing wrong with her. Her magical core had apparently settled and, due to their religious upkeep of Nutrition potions, she was deemed healthy.

Ron and Harry were hugely relieved. Ginny sent a long letter telling her to get better or else a Bat-Bogey was in it for her for scaring the redhead out of her wits. There were cards and chocolates from her friends, especially Neville; an apparent surprise was awaiting her from Dean and Seamus’ secret project, which they wanted her to join. Luna sent her a crown made of dittany to speed up the healing process. And Blaise told her of an open butterbeer tab for their next Leaky meeting. Apparently, the twins got word of what she started and now there was a betting pool involved. Mandy and Theo sent their regards and a bouquet of flowers. Pansy wrote a quick note at the bottom of Draco’s letter telling Hermione she was not appreciating the wrinkles the Gryffindor was causing her. Draco was the only one who wrote comprehensively about school and how the tutorial catch-ups were going and how most of the seventh years were stressing out about the upcoming NEWTs. He also wished her well and a speedy recovery. Jack, Daneel and Amy sent her get-well-soon cards with the three chocolate frogs. According to their cards, Hogwarts was becoming an enjoyable place to them now. Dean, Seamus, Neville and Ginny were mentoring them, and the nightmares were slowly but surely going away.

At the forefront of it all was a gift from Harry that made Hermione cry. He bought her a small acoustic guitar, along with a small note that simply said: _To remember the good times._

“Do you think we can do a bonfire?” Hermione asked.

They were back in the Burrow at the night she was discharged. The entire family was in the living room. Molly was knitting and Arthur was reading. Percy and Charlie were playing wizard’s chess while Fred, George, Ron and Harry were playing exploding snaps. Hermione was curled up between Ron and Harry, a book in her hand.

“What for?” Ron asked.

“Just…” Hermione shrugged. “I wanted to do something to say goodbye to my parents.”

Everyone looked at her.

“Well, of course, dear, we can,” said Molly.

“Just something simple,” said Hermione. “No need for a big fuss. I – I just…”

“It’s okay, Hermione,” said Harry, squeezing her shoulder. “We’ll do it.”

She smiled and leaned back on the couch to continue with her book.

***

That Sunday, Oliver found himself sitting between his brother Adrian and Percy in a very long table outside of the Weasley house called the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley cooked a feast and Oliver ate everything he could lay his hands on.

The Friday before, Charlie and Adrian came back to Wood manor with a couple more of their friends to investigate the phenomenon that was happening in the grounds. They had found that a part of the cliff had cracked and opened, which explained the sudden appearance of the waterfall. The second jolt had caused a cave to appear. There seemed to be a source further on where the water from the falls was coming from, but Charlie and Adrian still did not know where it was. And investigations were still being held as to what made the sound.

It was there that Charlie invited Oliver and Adrian to the Weasleys’ Sunday roast dinner, and told them of the bonfire for Hermione’s parents after.

Oliver felt for her. She seemed so happy when he saw her last. With everything she had gone through, he wanted to at least be able to offer her condolences.

Among those in attendance were their fellow housemates and members of Dumbledore’s Army: Neville, Dean, Seamus and Luna. What surprised Oliver though was the presence of the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy was laughing with Harry like they had not been rivals since they were eleven. Theodore Nott Jr. was speaking with Ron and the twins while Pansy Parkinson was _hugging_ Hermione. Meanwhile, Blaise Zabini was whispering to Ginny like it was normal behaviour. The blonde girl Oliver saw at the battle with Hermione was there too, Amanda Settinston, her name was. And apparently, she and Nott were dating.

Oliver smiled to himself. Perhaps this should be considered as the bigger victory. Harmony between Houses and peace between rivals.

After the dinner came the desserts and after the desserts, Fred and George called everyone to the bonfire pit. They had transfigured logs to small but comfortable settees and chaises. Butterbeer was passed around as well as a few shots of firewhiskey. When Arthur stood, everyone fell silent.

“I have not known Harold and Jean Granger very much,” Arthur said, “but I remember meeting them for the first time in Diagon Alley. They were very kind people, with keen and open minds. They accepted us for our magic and even entrusted Molly and I with their precious daughter, Hermione. And for that, I am grateful to them, that they’ve raised a wonderful daughter, that they’ve ingrained many wonderful things to her, and I know that they are proud of who you’ve become, Hermione. I know I am. To Harold and Jean, may you find peace.”

“To Harold and Jean,” the others echoed.

Ron stood up next. “I will forever be grateful to your parents for you, Hermione. I may not know them much, but I do know you. You told me before that children do not do what their parents say, but they do copy what they do. So I know your parents were marvellous people because I see it in you. To Harold and Jean, may they rest in peace.”

“To Harold and Jean.”

Harry stood up after. “I remember you talking about them around Christmas the year we were on the run. I asked you about your family’s traditions during the holidays and you told me about the things you missed about home.” He bit his lip for a moment. “Hermione, I’m sorry for all the things you’ve had to sacrifice for me. And I am grateful that you’ve chosen to have me in your family. You will always be my sister, and I promise you, you’ll never be alone, because you’ll forever have me as your brother. We may not be family by blood, but we are family in our hearts. And you are loved. Just look around you. You are not alone. And I promise your parents that I will take care of you just as well as they would. To Harold and Jean. Thank you for Hermione.”

“To Harold and Jean.”

Hermione had tears in her eyes that shone in the firelight. Instead of speaking, she opened her tiny beaded bag, pulled out a guitar and began to play. When she sang, Oliver’s heart broke.

_Sorry, I never told you_

_All I wanted to say_

_Now it’s too late to hold you_

_‘Cause you’ve flown away_

_So far away_

_Never had I imagined_

_Living without your smile_

_Feeling and knowing you hear me_

_It keeps me alive_

Harry joined her, harmonizing beautifully.

_And I know you’re shining down on me from heaven_

_Like so many friends we’ve lost along the way_

_And I know eventually we’ll be together_

_One sweet day_

_And I’ll wait patiently to see you in heaven_

As they began the second verse, Hermione and Harry poured their hearts into the song, releasing their grief through it. Oliver observed those around him. Some were leaning against each other, swaying slightly in the music. Others had their eyes closed, allowing the harmonies and the melody to wash over them like a balm to their soul.

When they sang the chorus again, Oliver closed his eyes and allowed the same soothing to wash over him. He tried not to think of the mysteries of the Wood grounds or what his mother’s cryptic messages meant, but focused himself on the beautiful voices that carried a meaningful message.

The song reached its peak with high notes and high emotions. Oliver’s eyes snapped open in awe and surprise, never knowing that the boy who gave him the Quidditch cup and the girl who always had her nose in a book were capable of singing like heaven itself has opened. And looking around the bonfire, Oliver saw that he was not the only one surprised. The women had tears in her eyes. Oliver could have sworn he saw Charlie crying, too, for that matter.

When the song finished, the brother and sister got a roaring applause. Another toast was raised to Hermione’s parents and soon, another round of tarts and drinks alike were passed.

Oliver stood from the settee he was on much later in the night when those around him were slurring in their conversations. As he walked towards the house, staggering slightly, he had hoped to talk to Hermione and once again offer his condolences. Maybe get her to laugh once more. Their conversation in the kitchens was never far from his mind. He never knew she was so daring, or that her laugh was pleasant in the ears. He never knew he could feel so accomplished with something so simple as to convince her to eat. Hermione had a beautiful mind; he knew that. But he never knew her heart was so strong. She had a gentleness about her that made everyone flock to her and she readily offered comfort to those that did. Like Jack, Daneel and sweet little Amy. They flocked to her because she made them feel safe.

The house was quiet when Oliver entered the kitchen. He placed his plate and bottle on the sink when his eye caught movement by the stairs. Cautiously, he approached and saw Hermione and Ron in each other’s arms, their lips locked in a passionate kiss.

Oliver turned around and left. He needed to go home. His mother was alone. He needed to be there in case some bizarre thing happened again. Yes, that was it. His mother needed him.

Bidding everyone goodbye, he walked to the boarder of the Weasleys’ land and apparated home.


	9. On a High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the new year and I am still somewhat not starting work, so I'll be uploading one today and another chapter to follow. Here's another fun chapter. Happy 2021, everyone!!! Enjoy :)

The unlikely friends met in the Leaky Cauldron the first Saturday of July. The place was packed with people (it being the summer holidays for students) and many patrons were staring wide-eyed smack in the middle of the pub where possibly the most famous teenagers in the world that brought down Voldemort and resisted Death Eaters now sat, laughing uproariously. Many in the pub were raising eyebrows, not because of the noise, but because from what they have read in the papers, these people hated one another and were in continuous rivalry. Yet they bickered and teased and laughed right before their very eyes. They had their own little world, unmindful of the eyes on them and the pointing from all around.

From her seat in the circle, Hermione leaned onto Ron, who wrapped his arm around her instinctively. She was feeling pride for their not-so-little group and, truth be told, a little pampered. They had showed her with a very warm welcome. She even got Pansy to cry, which the Slytherin told her was a bother which she would forever hold against the Gryffindor. The rest of the Slytherins were smirking as per usual, but Hermione could see Draco, Theo and Blaise subtly eyeing her, as though checking for any more signs of illness the first few minutes of her arrival. Only when they deemed her well did they slightly relax. Nevertheless, Blaise ordered finger foods and snacks that were now in the middle of the table in the guise of sharing it with everyone, but Hermione knew it was for her benefit. The casual shrug might have been missed, but his constant offering of food to her surely gave it away.

“Alright, settle down, settle down,” said Fred, standing up from his seat. “We have quite a bit to check up on so, the sooner we get this done, the richer some of us will be.”

George stood beside him as well and passed a small box around to the group. “You all know the rules; a galleon per bet and no switching once the bet is made.”

“The betting is now closed and we will continue with what you’ve informed us beforehand.”

“You can put in more than one bet, as long as you give the corresponding galleon.”

“Most importantly: no reading of the _Daily Prophet_ and –”

“No asking anyone to read the _Daily Prophet_ for you.”

“Looking at you, Zabini.” Fred pointed at him.

“It was one time!” Blaise objected.

“No matter,” said George. “our first category is –” Dean and Seamus did a drumroll on the table “- Death Eaters!”

A few of them around the table cheered and from the corner of her eyes, Hermione could see both the curious and the questioning look of those around them. Subtlety, apparently, was not a wizarding specialty. Meanwhile, the boxful of galleons had made its way back to Fred, who began to stack them into several neat piles.

“The bets were,” said George, looking at a piece of parchment he took out of his pocket, “Draco-ikins as a member of Voldisnort’s inner circle –”

Draco raised his hand this way and that like a campaigning candidate, to the applause of those around the table.

“Dark Artifacts found in the Parkinson vault –”

Pansy blew kisses that Neville, Dean and Seamus pretended to catch.

“Theo’s descent to disgrace, forever ruining of the Pure-blooded house of Nott _and_ Theo’s use of the Imperius against our one and only Harry Potter,” George finished.

“Sorry, Zabini, sweetums,” said Fred. “No bets for you this category.”

“Rude,” Blaise pouted. “Pay for your own butterbeers, bastards.”

“Don’t worry, Blaise-y, dear,” said George. “You’re in another category."

“I better be,” he muttered, smoothing out nonexistent creases in his suit jacket.

“And the winner is…” Fred paused for effect. Now everyone around the table did a drumroll. “Luna and Ginny for betting Theo’s use of the Imperius!”

Luna and Ginny high-fived each other as the others applauded them. George split one stack of galleons between them as Fred brought out a newspaper clipping then wore glasses that looked remarkably like that of Skeeter’s. Clearing his throat, he mimicked her high-pitched, grating voice and read, “ _This reporter has received from_ very _reliable sources that our beloved Man-Who-Conquered was seen in the presence of Death Eater spawn Theodore Nott Jr._ ”

“Boo,” teased the Gryffindors, to which Theo mock-arrogantly straightened his tie and flourished his hand and bowed.

“ _During one of Hogwarts’ Hogsmeade weekends, Nott and Potter were spotted in the Three Broomsticks in an apparent serious conversation. Later, Potter exited the establishment seemingly dazed while Nott slipped out the back door looking very pleased with himself._ ”

“Ooohhh,” the group chorused.

“How else was I supposed to make sure Scar-head paid the bill?” asked Theo dryly.

Harry gasped. “You used me!”

“That’s right. I only like you for your Gringott’s vault. I hope you don’t mind, Red.”

Ginny shrugged a shoulder. “I only like him for his body. Don’t cross over to my territory and we’ll be fine.”

They raised their butterbeers to each other and Harry rolled his eyes, to the amusement of their friends.

A house-elf came to deliver a basket of chips and Blaise pointed for him to place it in front of Hermione. She rolled her eyes and ate a mouthful of the crunchy chips to satisfy the dark-skinned, annoyingly mothering Slytherin.

“Next category,” announced Fred. _Drumroll_. “Infidelity.”

“Ooohhh…”

“Bets are,” said George, “Blaise and Ginny, secret rendezvous.”

“Theo and Ginny,” said Fred, “secretly dating.”

“Get some, Gin!” cheered Pansy.

“Blaise and an unknown veela from France –”

“Blaise and a muggle model from France –”

“Blaise and a muggle actress from France –”

“Blaise, you slag,” commented Ginny.

“Ron and Hermione, old love rekindled.”

“And Neville and Hermione, a meeting behind _Mandrake Emporium_.”

“Damn it, Nev! Stop taking all of us to _Mandrake Emporium_!” protested Hermione.

“I think he gets a discount there,” said Luna innocently. “Every five affairs, he gets a free plant.”

They laughed loudly at that with a few patrons joining in, seemingly forgetting that they were supposed to be inconspicuous in their eavesdropping. Meanwhile, Dean and Seamus ruffled the blushing Neville’s hair.

“Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards,” said Fred, “I am pleased to announce that we have two winners.”

“Ooohhh…”

“Winner number one,” said George. “Mandy for choosing: Ron and Hermione, old love rekindled!”

Fred held up a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ with a headline that boldly screamed: **_Hermione Granger’s Moonlit Tryst: Are Two of the Golden Trio Rekindling an Old Flame?_ **The page itself was half-filled with a massive photograph of her and Ron outside of a muggle restaurant close to the Leaky Cauldron. Ron had his hands on her waist, while she had one hand on his face and another on his cheek. The moving photograph looped between them kissing then parting to look at something out of frame behind Ron.

Everyone cheered and patted Ron and Hermione in joking congratulations and Mandy did a happy dance as she accepted her winnings.

“Damn it, Weasel!” shouted Draco. “How dare you date your own girlfriend in the face of our nonexistent relationship?”

He got a laugh of everyone on their table and a few very surprised faces from the crowd around them. Murmurs immediately buzzed as the surprised revelation of Draco and Hermione’s non-relationship blew people’s minds.

“Winner number two,” said Fred, zealously ignoring what was happening outside of their little bubble. “Draco for choosing: Blaise and Ginny, secret rendezvous!”

Draco’s smirk could rival his twelve-year-old self’s as he pointedly looked at Blaise and Ginny and collected his winnings.

George held up a newspaper article with a smaller photograph of Blaise and Ginny standing outside _Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop_. In the loop, the two were facing each other, seemingly talking. Blaise was tucking his hands in his pockets and Ginny was tucking her hair behind her ear. The title read **_Weasley Wench to Seduce Zabini Heir_**.

“Scared of competition, Scar-head?” Blaise teased.

“The article’s implying you took her to _Puddifoot’s_ , Dress Robes,” retorted Harry. “There is _no_ competition. Now if that was in front of _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ , then I might be a little worried.”

Ginny jokingly pushed him as the Gryffindors sniggered.

“Okay, last category,” said George.

“Heartbreak,” said Fred, dramatically holding the back of one hand to his forehead and the other to his chest.

“I think it’s safe to say this will be about Harry and the Amazing Bouncing Ferret,” said Ron, smiling at Draco who gave him the finger.

“That it is, little brother,” said Fred. “That it is. Are we ready?”

“Let’s do it!”

“Yeah!”

“Bring it!”

“Now we had to be stricter with the rules,” said George. “Your words had to _perfectly match_ what’s in the headline of the article.”

“Wait!” cried Hermione and everyone looked at her. “I just have to savour this moment. The Weasley twins had to be _stricter_ with _rules_.” She pretended to wipe a tear. “I think this is the happiest day of my life.”

“Not when we got together?” asked Ron mockingly. “I am hurt!”

“To be fair,” said Luna angelically, “you two were a long time coming. The twins being stricter with anything, let alone rules, is like Draco getting along with a hippogriff.”

Everyone laughed, though none louder than Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Ron rocked sideways on his chair, clutching his arm as he mimicked a third year Draco exclaiming, “Oh, it’s killed me! It’s killed me!”

“You’re gonna regret this!” continued Harry, doing the same. “You and your bloody chicken!”

They all burst into laughter once more. Even Pansy forgot her poise and snorted. Theo was clutching at his stomach that Mandy had to ensure he wouldn’t fall off his chair. Dean and Seamus were leaning on each other, howling with laughter. Fred and George had to sit down lest they fell sideways, they were laughing so hard. Blaise and Neville were banging the table. And Hermione and Ginny were pointing at Draco’s blushing face.

Draco sat, glaring at his two ex-rivals and trying not to laugh along. He shook his head and turned to Luna. “Low blow, Radish Ears. Low blow.”

“They’re dirigible plums, cousin,” said Luna in a sing-song voice.

It took a while for them to settle. Tears had to be wiped out of their eyes and another round of butterbeer ordered. When they calmed enough, Fred and George pushed through.

“Here are the bets,” breathed Fred, standing once more with his twin. “Theo bets ‘Draco Discarded by Golden Girl’.”

“Rough,” Draco muttered and Theo sniggered.

George took over. “Neville bets ‘Gryffindor Princess Crushes the Heart of the Slytherin Prince’.”

“Does he get points for the titles?” Seamus asked.

“No, he doesn’t. No one does,” said Fred. “Blaise bets ‘Boy-Who-Lives… to Regret Another Decision’.”

“Oh, that’s a good headline,” said Pansy.

“Pansy bets ‘The Man-Who-Conquered a Dark Lord, But Not Weasley’s Heart’.”

“But not as good as mine,” she continued.

“Ouch,” said Harry.

“Don’t worry, mate,” said Ron. “You conquered _my_ heart.”

Hermione hit his arm. “Stop hitting on my brother!”

Ginny hit his other arm. “Stop hitting on my boyfriend!”

“Bloody hell!” said Ron.

“Dean bets ‘Draco Malfoy Drowns His Sorrow on Drinking’.”

“Seamus bets ‘Draco Malfoy Drinking His Heartache Away’.”

“If you two sods invited me over for drinks just for the purpose of winning a bet, I’ll hex your bollocks off!” threatened Draco, eyes narrowing at the two, who were trying to look as innocent as possible.

“Draco bets ‘Granger Chooses Blood-traitor Peasant Over Pureblood Heir’.”

Ron chuckled and gave Draco the finger. Draco gave it right back with a smirk.

“Harry bets ‘Granger Discarding Another Quidditch Player to the Stands’.”

Ginny hit Harry’s arm. “You should’ve bet on our own heartbreak, Harry! It increases our chances of winning! Think it through next time!”

Harry merely shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Mandy bets ‘Royal Flush: Gryffindor Princess and Slytherin Prince Break Up’.”

“Oh, that’s a good one!” Hermione, Ginny and Pansy chorused.

Mandy flourished her hand in each of their directions as a show of thanks.

“Luna bets ‘Granger Danger: Another Heart Broken’.”

“Ooohhh, Granger-Danger. I like that one,” said Hermione and high-fived Luna.

“Ginny bets ‘Harry Potter Heart-broken by Midnight Trysts Behind _Mandrake Emporium_ ’.”

A smattering of laughter sounded around the table along with teasing glances at Neville.

“Ron bets ‘Malfoy Dumped for a Better Quidditch Player’.”

Draco raised his bottle. “Weasley is our king!”

“Weasley is our king!” the others chorused.

“And lastly, Hermione bets ‘Rivalries Between Houses Resurrected Because of Little Miss Perfect Hermione Granger’.”

A chorus of ooohh’s sounded around the table.

“Witches and wizards,” said Fred, inciting tension. “For the grand finale. The winner is…”

George wiggled his fingers around the biggest stack of galleons on the table as everyone did a drumroll.

“Hermione Granger!” exclaimed Fred and held up a _Daily Prophet_ article that read: **_Little Miss Perfect Ruins Peace by Reviving Rivalries Between Houses_** _._

Everyone erupted in cheers! Hermione stood up punching the air and doing a little dance as she collected her winnings.

“Bow down! I’m the queen of heartbreak, mortals!” she taunted.

Harry, Dean and Seamus lifted their hands in the air and lowered it to her in a bow repeatedly. Everyone copied them and Hermione waved like a queen all the way back to her seat.

The crowd around them were not even pretending anymore but openly watching them and applauding Hermione, too. She blew a couple of kisses here and there.

“Alright, that’s us for the day,” said George. “Shop won’t run itself.”

“Thank you for the winnings, lovelies,” said Mandy as she stood up with Theo.

“See you all around,” said Pansy. “Toodles.”

With that, everyone dispersed speedily all at the same time. That way, no one could get followed or cornered. Some went through the front door of the Leaky, some went to Diagon Alley, and some went to the floo. Within a matter of minutes, the fifteen were nowhere to be seen.

Hermione went with Dean and Seamus to a new part of Diagon Alley called Hexagon Alley. It was a newly built plaza in a shape of a hexagon with a fountain in the middle. New businesses were slowly filling the place, one of which was _Muggle Magical_ , which sat opposite to the famous _Mandrake Emporium_.

Dean unlocked the door to the store and the three of them came in. Inside were muggle appliances – from refrigerators, microwaves and ovens to televisions, record players and cellular phones.

“Oh dear Godric,” Hermione whispered, running her hands on vinyl records.

“This,” said Seamus, arms wide open in presentation, “is _Muggle Magical_ , your one-stop shop for every muggle need, enabled by magic.”

Hermione had her mouth agape. “But – but electricity and magic do not mix.”

“We’ve found a spell that can enable them to work together,” said Dean. “It’s more like a ward created around the object that disables magic in the object itself, but still allows magic to flow around it.”

“We’ve also created these Enablers,” said Seamus, handing her a metallic pin that reminded her of a fridge magnet. “These allow the wards to stay in place. We can put them on our merchandise or sell them by themselves.”

“Brilliant,” said Hermione. “These are simply brilliant, boys! This is advanced and powerful magic.”

Seamus blushed but shrugged nonetheless. “Well, blow up enough things and you can get creative.”

Hermione chuckled. “Can I help with this?” she asked. “I mean, I want to help back you guys up with funding or ideas. It’s just that I’m applying for a position in the Ministry and I know that will take my focus. But I want to invest here. Would you allow me to do that?”

Dean and Seamus looked at each other and smiled.

“Absolutely,” said Dean, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “From one Muggleborn to another, I think we ought to stand together.”

Hermione squealed in delight before jumping up to hug Dean then Seamus. “Of course! One hundred per cent! Absolutely! I’m so proud of you, boys.”

“Plus,” said Seamus, whose grin could not be contained, “with that brilliant brain of yours, I’m sure tons of amazing ideas are just waiting to pop out.”

There was a flashing of light that reflected on a toaster that caught their attention. When they looked to the window of the store, they spotted a photographer running away.

“Well,” said Hermione. “I know what I’m sending Fred and George for the next round of bets.”


	10. The Start

Ever since Hermione had that dream of dragons and falls made of fire, she could not get what Percy suggested out of her head. In the week that followed, she hungrily read Charlie’s books on dragons and asked Percy for details and pamphlets about the Department.

The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was the second largest department in the Ministry, preceded only by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It had seven main divisions, namely Beast, Being, Spirit, the Goblin and Centaur Liaison Offices, the Pest Advisory Board and lastly the Office of Misinformation. The Being Division had three sub-departments while the Beast Division had six, sometimes crossing over to Centaur Liaison Office as well.

Hermione sent them a letter declaring her interest and desire to work in the Beast Division’s Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau. Within a day, she was given a reply and invited by the Head of Department, Gethsemane Prickle, for an interview.

Gethsemane Prickle was a stern looking woman with medium length grey hair and green eyes behind thin brown-rimmed glasses. When she interviewed Hermione, the younger woman found her direct and very professional. She did not hold Hermione’s lack of seventh year experience against her, but tested her as well. Hermione answered her questions as best as she could, citing books and even information she has learnt from Charlie. Though not the one to usually congratulate herself before a test is finished, Hermione gave herself an encouraging pat on the back when she noticed a small twitch in the corner of the older woman’s lips. It reminded her of McGonagall’s ‘impressed’ face, which she took for a good sign.

Miss Prickle briefly explained to Hermione what each department was and how they functioned before asking her why she specifically chose the Beast Division and Dragon Research.

Hermione could hardly answer that question with, _“Because I had a dream about it and now I can’t get it out of my head.”_ So she chose a different answer.

“I never thought it was something I wanted to do with my life,” she said honestly. “But the more I read about dragons, the more my interest in the subject grew. There is so much that can be learned about them and so much that can still be discovered.

“I am a scholar, Miss Prickle. I value education and I love learning. Research is a joy to me because I get to discover things I have not known before and find areas to use them in. Because of this, I believe I will be a great asset in the Division. Not only does it feed my passion, but it will also enable me to pass that knowledge on to those around me and to the future generation.”

Prickle had her fingers steeped before her, that small twitch playing on her lips. She looked at Hermione with approval and nodded. “Very well.” She stood and extended her hand for Hermione to shake.

The younger woman stood and shook it.

“Welcome to the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Miss Granger. Come. Let me introduce you to your new Supervisor.”

They made their way to the winding maze that was the entire department in one floor and ended up outside the door of one ‘Roger Moon’.

Prickle knocked on his door twice before being bid to come in, which she did so, confidently.

Evidently, Moon had company and Hermione was surprised to see Charlie standing there with Adrian and a barrel-chested man with salt-and-pepper hair and beard, and a great big moustache that twirled at the ends.

“Miss Prickle,” greeted a lean, exhausted looking man with greying hair and black rectangular glasses, whose arms were akimbo. “Can I help you?”

“I was thinking about helping you, actually, Mr. Moon,” said Prickle and gestured to Hermione. “Do you know Miss Granger?”

Moon stood straighter, his eyes lighting up. “Yes, yes I do. How do you do, Miss Granger?” He extended his hand, which Hermione shook.

“Well, thank you. Yourself?”

“Well. Very well. These are my colleagues. Marcus Caine, the managing director of the Scotland Dragon Reserve. And these are our dragonologists, Adrian Wood and Charlie Weasley.”

Hermione nodded at each of them, as Prickle had done. Charlie gave her a wink.

“Miss Granger has expressed her desire to work in Dragon Research,” said Prickle. “I’ll leave her in your care. Gentlemen. Miss Granger.” With that, she left.

“Brilliant,” said Moon. “Perfect timing, actually.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “The Reserve is in need of hands. Miss Granger, do you think you’re capable of handling rough environments and wrangling beasts, if need be?” He looked down at her neatly braided hair, crisp white long sleeves, black pencil skirt and high heels and scratched his head.

“Of course, sir,” said Hermione confidently. “I’m sure I can manage. And I’m a quick learner, too, so anything I don’t know how to do, will not remain as such for long.”

“Have you ever wrangled anything in your life, Miss Granger?” Mr. Caine asked.

Hermione looked at him straight in the eye. “A few Death Eaters, the Weasley twins and the Boy-Who-Lived since I was eleven.”

Charlie had to hide his laughter behind a cough and Adrian pursed his lips, though his chest vibrated in silent laughter.

Caine grinned. “I like you.”

“Thank you.”

“There you go,” said Moon. “You will join these men in the Reserve and do research there. There are trainers in the Reserve as well, so you need not fret about that. Mr. Caine will hand you your jobs and you will only need to report here every fortnight with whatever research you’ve gathered. If you need more resources, don’t be afraid to contact me. If you need more hands, well, we’ll find a way.” Then to himself, he muttered, “Not like dragonologists exist a Knut a dozen.” With that, he opened a drawer and procured a roll of parchment for her. “This is your contract. Anything and everything you will need to know is in there. Read everything carefully. If it doesn’t scare you, sign the dotted line and have it delivered here by no later than Wednesday. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” said Hermione, putting the contract carefully in her beaded bag.

Moon turned to Caine. “There you go. I got you a war heroine and the brightest witch of her age. Now try to keep her in one piece.”

Caine nodded once and left the office with no further ado. Adrian followed him and Charlie let Hermione through the door first before going out last.

They made their way through the maze once more before Hermione found herself in the lift.

“You’ll have to change,” said Caine without looking at her. “I’m sending you off with these two to see about a cave and I can’t have you dressed like that. The portkey is pre-arranged. You have five minutes and nothing more.”

Hermione opened her beaded bag, tapped her wand to her military boots then murmured the incantation before tapping her high heels. The two switched places. She did the same thing again until she was wearing a lightweight, breathable dark blue long sleeve top and sturdy jeans as well. She tied up her braid in a bun before tapping her clothes, muttering, “ _Impervius_ ,” to render her outfit waterproof. She looked up at Caine. “Done,” she said, before the doors of the lift even opened.

The managing director had his mouth slightly opened. “How?”

“I was Undesirable Number Two, sir. I was on the run with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley trying to figure out a way to end a war and kill a madman before his pets got to us. A quick getaway could mean life or death.”

“What spell was that?” Adrian asked, amused and impressed at the same time.

“One I invented myself. We’re here.”

Before them the Atrium spread. It was to Hermione’s huge relief upon coming through by floo that morning that the middle of the Atrium had once again been the Fountain of Magical Brethren instead of that abominable Magic is Might nonsense. It made her smile once again seeing it now – golden statues of a witch and a wizard with a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf.

Meanwhile, Caine seemed incapable of speech. He simply handed Charlie a piece of rope with a knot at the end before walking out.

Charlie nudged Hermione before the three followed him. He had a wide grin on his face. “You really are something, you know that?”

Hermione shrugged, her lips pulling upwards. “I try.”

The portkey landed near the edge of a forest. Beyond it, Hermione could see nothing but marsh. As soon as they landed, she made sure her feet were apart, ready and braced for impact so she would not make a fool of herself and fall over. Thank Merlin it worked. On either side of her, however, Adrian and Charlie fell over themselves in laughter.

Hermione regarded the gentlemen. Adrian looked so much like Oliver, lean with toned muscles, brown hair that was straighter and longer, a jawline that could cut glass, but most of all, bottle green eyes that were the brightest Hermione had ever seen. He looked well put together in his dragon-hide boots, dark jeans, dark blue shirt and peacoat.

Charlie was the opposite of him. He was stocky, and tall, too, but Adrian had a few inches on him. His red hair was past his shoulders now and tied with a hair tie, a few shorter wisps hitting his cheekbones. His eyes, Charlie’s eyes were the colour of the clear blue skies. And Charlie always looked rough in his boots, faded jeans, white t-shirt and flannel. On occasion that he removed his flannel, his tattooed bicep made an appearance. Hermione’s cheeks slightly reddened at the memory of it.

“Tha’ was _the most_ _brilliant_ thing a’ve ever seen in ma life!” Adrian exclaimed.

“Hermione, you made my day!” said Charlie, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Hell, you made my week!”

“Mine, too, lass,” said Adrian. “Mine, too.”

“I’m glad I can amuse you,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes. “Now, where are we?”

“Right, right. Work. Come along, then.”

Adrian led the way, Hermione followed and Charlie brought up the rear. They made their way out of the forest and into the marsh and Adrian began jumping from one rock to another. The rocks themselves were quite low, some barely above the water and must have been made by magic, because Hermione could have sworn they popped out of nowhere and did not even make a ripple. She cast a Sticking Charm on her beaded bag and placed it in the pocket of her jeans while her wand was stored in a holster on her thigh for easy access.

She lost count of how many rocks they jumped through, but all of a sudden, she jumped and emerged at a completely different place. They must have crossed the wards that protected the property. And what a property!

The Scottish highland mountains could be seen looming further back and seemingly all around while beautiful trees swayed this way and that a few meters behind where the three had appeared. To the left, Hermione could see a quidditch pitch that could rival that of Hogwarts in its size. And to the right, a path led to somewhere beyond the hill.

In front of them, in the centre of it all was a large rectangular fountain. In its middle were stone statues of a Viking and a royal woman. Between them was the Viking’s shield engraved with a crest of three dragons taking flight. Surrounding them were waves forever frozen in splash.

The moment she laid eyes on the statues, Hermione stopped breathing. There was _something_ about this place, something ancient and powerful. She could feel the magic engrained in the very ground she stood upon and the thrum of magic in the air. She had never in her life stood near magic so strong, not even at Hogwarts.

“Hermione, are you all right?” asked Charlie beside her. His hand went to her elbow in caution.

“This place…” Hermione shook her head. There were no words.

“Fantastic, isn’t it?” said Charlie with a smile, misunderstanding her. “Manor’s huge.”

At his words, Hermione pealed her eyes from the statues and to what lay behind. Her jaw dropped. It was not just imposing; it was _grand_.

“You know,” whispered Charlie as they walked towards it, “I heard Adrian say the bricks are ingrained with magic. It reflects the sun and the sky, so at sunset, it would turn golden, then orange-red, then indigo. At sunrise, it turns yellow-orange, then yellow-pink.”

Hermione was speechless and Charlie chuckled.

Adrian led them up the few steps to the manor’s wooden double doors and without knocking, opened it. That brought Hermione back to reality.

“Are we trespassing?” she asked Charlie with wide eyes.

He chuckled again. “No, sweetheart, this is the Wood’s Estate. This is Adrian’s house.”

“Ha-ha,” came the mocking laugh in front of them as Adrian shook his head. “My family’s house. My ancestor’s house. Not mine.”

Charlie leaned closer to Hermione and whispered, “Same difference.”

They went past vast rooms, staircases and a fireplace bigger than even that of the Ministry and out through the backyard.

“Oh Merlin,” Hermione whispered. The grounds were manicured to perfection with a garden and a gazebo to the left. Various plants, shrubberies, flowers and trees were placed to perfection that it almost seemed rude to Hermione not to stop and appreciate them. But Adrian was on a mission, and well, technically, so was she, and did not stop until they reached the end of the property. Literally. There was no warning but a sudden drop. The cliff stood about a thousand meters up against the lake at the bottom. And from here, she could see the Highland mountains expanded in every direction.

Hermione clung to Charlie the moment they neared the edge. She did not even dare look down, but focused on the mountains in the horizon, which somehow looked closer from here.

“Ye ‘right, lass?” Adrian asked and Hermione nodded. “Yer no’ afraid of heights, are ye?”

“Would that be an issue?” she asked.

“Aye. We’d have tae scale down the cliff a bit ta get ta the cave.”

 _Fuck my life_ , Hermione thought, but kept her demeanour calm. “Lead the way then.”

Charlie was watching her closely. She could feel his gaze burning through the side of her skull. That was probably because she was clinging to him like a vice. She immediately loosened her grip.

“Dun worry,” said Adrian with a smile that made Hermione want to punch it off. “It’s just a wee bit doon.”

There was a sound of running water and Hermione leaned slightly over to see a waterfall seemingly coming out of nowhere. Its source must been the cave they were going to, she thought.

The Scot led the way and Hermione was absolutely grateful she had yet to gain all the weight she lost during the run. However, they were two meters down from the ledge they were on when Hermione truly began to wish she had more muscle, or stamina, or any kind of physical strength generally. Praying to Merlin, Morgana, Godric and even freaking Salazar that she would not fall, Hermione promised to herself to exercise more.

As the sound of rushing water increased, Hermione saw Adrian jump onto a ledge to her left. Slowly inching her way over, she saw the reason for his jump: there was nothing but smooth rock from where she was to the ledge.

“Yer gunna haf tae jump, lass,” Adrian shouted over the sound of the waterfall.

_Why? Why did I take this job?_

Swallowing hard, Hermione pushed herself from the face of the cliff and leapt. She felt Adrian’s hands grab her arms to secure her and she released the breath she did not know she was holding.

A thud behind her sounded indicating Charlie’s arrival.

When Hermione looked down, she saw that a small way away from them was a stream that led to the falls. It was only a meter wide and not very deep, but the rush of water was powerful. Following its source towards the cave, she looked up to see a very familiar face.

“She didnae even flinch or anythin’,” said the smiling face of Oliver Wood.

“Aye, tough, this one,” said Adrian in agreement.

Hermione chose to simply nod and willed her knees to strengthen. Her heart was hammering a mile a minute, but they did not need to know about that.

“Did you get any further?” asked Charlie.

“Not by much,” replied Oliver. “But you’ll still want to see this.”

The three men sprinted towards the back of the cave and Hermione followed wordlessly. Only a few meters in, the source of the waterfall vanished under moss and stone. From her vantage point, Hermione could see that this part of the stream was deeper than the one at the ledge. However, due to the strong current, they would not be able to go under and follow it. Besides, who knew how long this tunnel went underneath the earth? Meanwhile, the cave wall curved downwards until it met the ground where a man was currently knelt over.

“Thell,” called Charlie and the man stepped back and stood.

He was brown skinned and broad-chested with black hair that rippled in waves down to his shoulder. On his left eyebrow was a scar that went halfway down his eyelid. “I see we have a guest,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“Actually, Hermione is with us noo,” said Adrian. “Just hired and transferred tae the Dragon Research Department and handed over tae the Reserve fer training and tha’.”

Thell raised his scar-less right eyebrow. “And you already had her climbing down a cliff within the hour?”

Charlie shrugged as Adrian scratched the back of his neck.

“Caine’s orders?” they both said.

“I can handle it,” said Hermione more confidently than she was feeling. “What are we dealing with?”

Thell looked at Charlie and Adrian for confirmation and when they nodded, he moved aside to show what he had been working on. At first sight, it looked like a bunch of rock. But then in close inspection, Hermione could clearly see the tip of a talon curving inwards, protecting what looked like –

“An egg!” Adrian exclaimed and quickly knelt down beside the incredible find.

The egg was covered with scales all over. Its color was coal grey at the top before slowly turning orange then finally glowing yellow at the bottom, giving it the illusion of looking like a lit coal.

“Is it just the one?” Adrian asked Thell.

“As far as I could tell, yeah,” the latter replied.

“How could you tell?” asked Hermione.

“That’s the thing,” said Thell, raking his hair with his fingers, which gained the attention of the other two dragonologists. “The egg’s alive.”

Charlie’s eyebrow shot to his hairline and Adrian’s eyes widened.

“That’s huge because…” Hermione waited for one of them to fill her in.

It was Oliver who answered. “This cave didnae exist three weeks ago.”

Hermione’s eyebrow arched. “But the egg’s alive,” she said, confused. “I thought only live dragons can create live eggs?”

“Yeah, that’s true,” said Charlie crouching down beside Adrian.

“So how –”

“No bloody clue.”

“Huh.”

Together, Charlie and Adrian waved their wands in an infinity motion, perfectly in sync, as they looked around the cave for any sign of life. The egg glowed slightly before returning to normal.

“It’s weak,” said Charlie.

“Given that this cliff has been here for bleedin’ centuries, or even millennia, tha’s a freakin’ miracle,” said Adrian.

Oliver leaned to Hermione. “My brother tends ta curse when he gets excited.”

Hermione smirked but did not take her eyes off the egg and the dragonologists. “You’re definitely related, then.”

“We need tae get this tae the Reserve immediately,” said Adrian.

“We can’t,” said Thell. “I’ve been trying that but the talon won’t let go of it.”

“Have you tried breaking the talon?” asked Charlie.

Thell shook his head tiredly. “There must be a spell or an enchantment around it. Nothing I did worked. And I didn’t want to risk having a curse rebound on the egg. If either of you are more accurate, then by all means, have a go at it.”

Charlie stood to the side as Adrian pointed his wand and tried three spells. Two had no effect whatsoever and the third rebounded to the water. Charlie tried next, but still, nothing worked. He looked at Hermione.

“Want to have a go?”

 _Well, why not? What harm could possibly be done?_ Hermione thought to herself as she moved closer to the egg. The talon was dark grey, barely distinguishable from the rock behind it. It was so huge that it completely held the egg securely behind it. That meant whatever this talon belonged to was _huge_. Hermione tilted her head this way and that, trying to examine the egg itself. She bent down lower and touched it, examining for any gaps or wiggle room.

She remembered the golden egg that Harry won during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. It was big and had to be held by both hands. This egg was bigger both in width and height. No doubt it would be heavier, too.

As she ran her hand all over it, trying to see how connected it was to the talon, Hermione could feel the egg starting to heat up. At first, it could easily be blamed to a trick of the mind, but then the heat started to increase, not gradually, but quite quickly. Was that normal?

“Um… guys?” Hermione drew her hand back just as the egg fell off the talon and rolled towards the water. Before any of the men could stop it, it fell in.

“Grab it!” shouted Charlie.

“ _Accio_ egg!” shouted Adrian, but to no avail. “Shite!”

Thell jumped into the stream and was surprised to find it went up to his waist. His shock caused him to miss the egg, which was now hurtling towards the ledge and off the falls.

Hermione followed her instincts. Pushing Oliver out of the way, she ran to the ledge as fast as her feet could carry her and dove to tackle the egg in the stream before it fell to the edge. She only just managed to grab hold of it when the strength of the water pushed her legs and slipped it off the ledge.

***

“HERMIONE!”

Charlie dove down and managed to grab hold of her wrist. He was on the bank of the stream, which proved slightly beneficial, in that the stream buffeted his side, but could not push him off the falls. Slowly, he inched her away from the water.

Beside him, Oliver arrived. “Can ye pull her up?”

“No,” said Charlie through gritted teeth, trying desperately to hold on.

“Oliver!” shouted Hermione and Charlie had to be impressed at the authority in her voice. No shake, no fear, no panic. “I need you to summon my bag!”

“What?”

“Do it!”

“ _Accio_ Hermione’s bag!” The beaded bag flew to his hand.

“There’s rope inside there! Summon it!”

“ _Accio_ rope!” Catching the rope, Oliver unfurled it and gave one end to his brother while tying the other end around his waist. Being that he was the leaner and shorter one of the men, neither Adrian nor Thell commented but readied themselves to support his weight. Meanwhile, Charlie did not let his brain register the complaint of his muscle. All he thought about was Hermione. Hermione, who was dangling hundreds of meters off the edge of the cliff, because she wanted to save an egg that only moved when she touched it.

With a nod at his brother, Oliver made his way down the side of the ledge until he was hanging in the air with only his hands to hold him up in the ledge and made his way carefully towards Hermione. He secured one arm around her waist, the other still holding on, and at his word, Adrian and Thell pulled Oliver while Charlie pulled Hermione.

As soon as they were over and back into solid ground, Charlie knelt down and pulled Hermione to him, relief flooding him. Behind her, Oliver leaned his head on Hermione’s shoulder, hugging her, too. There were no words to describe the craziness of the situation, so they kept silent and just breathed.

As their breathing slowed, Hermione pulled back. She was sat between the two and in her arms, she had the egg. Charlie and Oliver looked at it, too. Somehow, its colours were more vibrant. Before their very eyes, it wiggled, surprising all three.

“Ade, cast the spell again,” said Charlie, not taking his wide eyes off the egg.

“What spell?”

“Oh, bloody – I’ll do it myself.” Charlie pointed his wand at the egg and waved it in an infinity motion. “ _Vim vitae_.”

The egg glowed brighter than it did the first time and for longer, too. Relief, joy and surprise overflowed through the group and Charlie watched as Hermione clutched the egg to her chest.

“You scared us, little one,” she whispered softly to it, a tender look in her eyes.

Charlie smiled. He could not wait until he saw Hermione watching an egg hatch for the first time.

“How in the world?” Thell could only shake his head.

Hermione looked up at him. “Are we sure there’s nothing else in there?”

“Absolutely positive,” he replied.

“Good. Can we leave now?”

Adrian and Oliver chuckled.

“Absolutely,” said the older Wood.

“One more thing,” said Hermione and turned to Charlie. “Don’t you dare tell Harry!”


	11. Dragons

The Scotland Dragon Reserve was situated somewhere in the midst of the Grampian Mountains. The Ministry of Magic had warded off a large section of the mountains back in 1607 when Great Britain faced an overpopulation of Hebridean Blacks that had flown over to the main land from the Hebrides Islands. Now the Reserve was nestled in the midst of five gigantic mountains Hermione had never seen on any muggle map. Down the valley on the northeast, a large lake was situated. While over to the west, a waterfall fell down beautifully from one of the mountains and down to a pool, which led to a stream that snaked its way throughout the valley. Everywhere else was lush greenery.

The main structures of the Reserve were integrated with the structure of the south to the northwest mountains and, from what Hermione could see, there were five that were widely spaced apart. Near the clearings on the side of the southeast mountains, there were cottages of various sizes and shapes clumped together. All of them were stone made. It looked rather quaint, Hermione thought.

If the view was not enough to take her breath away, the dragon that flew overhead sure did the trick. The green beast was large, approximately eighteen feet in length, and flicked its tail as it flew by. It gave a musical roar that rendered Hermione in awe. It flew up and up and up until she could not follow it anymore, blinded by the sun.

Hermione turned to Charlie with fascination on her face. “That was a Welsh Green!” she said excitedly.

“Yes, it was,” he replied, smiling as well, affected by her enthusiasm.

“It’s beautiful!” She looked up, hoping to see it again, when Charlie herded her over to the left. Ahead of them were Adrian and Thell, who were holding onto the egg. Oliver was left behind, needing to take care of their mother. The group then began walking. “Does it ever go away?” she asked. “The excitement of seeing them? The rush?”

Charlie shook his head. “Not for me. I’ve been working with them going on eight years now and I still end up with my jaw to the floor sometimes.”

“And how many times do you actually get to interact with them?”

“Quite a lot. Dragons are wild, but their intelligence is stellar. They’ve become familiar with us and so they allow us to care for them when they’re ill or hold their young. They still do get territorial or aggressive sometimes; that can’t be avoided. But I’d say more than half of the time, they allow us to touch them and scratch them and pet them.”

Hermione chuckled. “Petting a dragon,” she giggled and shook her head, unable to wrap her mind around it. “Where are we going now?”

“The Crèche.” He pointed to the third rock-infused structure that was covered in bright moss and brown vines a long way away from them. “That’s where we keep the eggs and the babies.”

Hermione nodded when Adrian and Thell instead headed to the first building. She raised a questioning brow.

“We need to report to the chief first,” Charlie said.

The first building was built like a modern industrial building coming out of the side of the mountain. It had thick steel beams that jutted out of the dark grey, concrete façade, vast windows and the occasional wooden paneling that enhanced the aesthetic of the place. The inside was black-marble floored and the balconies of each floor overlooked each other creating a cascading, stair-like effect with the smallest floor at the very top. The ceiling was made entirely of glass and steel beams, offering plenty of natural light and an amazing, unobstructed view.

“This is Central,” Charlie informed Hermione as they went up the steps. “The cafeteria is through there –” he pointed to the right of the entrance “- and the potions labs are to the left and to the back. We experiment on medicines and we create them ourselves, you see. Behind the staircase are the fireplaces. All connected to the floo network, of course.”

“In the first floor, we have Administration and Research. Labs, archives, the library, and no, I won’t tell you where that is yet. I can’t have you disappearing on me.” He chuckled when Hermione pouted. “Second floor is where the conference rooms are as well as the offices. This is where we have meetings, briefings and lectures.”

“You have lectures?”

“Yes, of course. We can’t learn everything we know about dragons in one go. It’s a continuous learning experience.” He pointed to a beautifully handcrafted wooden door with magical small dragons engraved to it that flew through and around the vines. “That’s Caine’s office.” He pointed up to the floor above them. “There’s a nice and relaxing lounge upstairs as well as a game room and an entertainment area. And the ceiling’s made of glass, so it has a good view.”

Adrian knocked on Caine’s door before entering.

“How’s Granger?” she heard Caine’s voice asked. “Did she get hurt?”

Hermione strode in the room with as much confidence as she could muster. “Well, I managed to find myself dangling off a cliff, but I managed to save you a dragon egg.”

Caine sat on his mahogany desk, which faced the door. The walls behind him and to his left (Hermione’s right) were made entirely of glass. The office itself was beautifully and simplistically made with light wooden panels and wooden floors. There were dark wood shelves filled with books and dragon egg replicas and two filing cabinets on the corner. A geometric rug sat on the floor.

“I am going to be honest with you, young lady,” said Caine. “I don’t know if I should question you on how you managed to find yourself dangling off a cliff or how you managed to bring the egg here.”

Hermione shrugged a shoulder. “Depends how much time you have.”

Caine chortled. “I like you. The egg. How?”

“All three of your men tried spells, so I did not bother with that,” answered Hermione. “I went to touch the egg and felt around the talon to see if there was wiggle room.”

“And there obviously was.”

“Actually, there wasn’t. Whatever space that may have once been there, had been filled with mud and rock.” Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the next. “Sir, if I may ask. Is it normal for an egg to heat up?”

The four men looked at her curiously.

“It’s just that when I touched the egg, it did just that. And not gradually, too, but quickly. Like someone turning up the heat dial. When I withdrew my hand because of it, the egg fell out. I didn’t push it. It was just suddenly loose.”

Caine leaned back on his chair and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. He looked at Thell. “That the egg?”

“Yes, sir.” Thell placed it on top of his desk and Caine leaned forward to examine it.

“It’s not like anything we’ve seen before.”

“No, sir,” said Adrian. “And it’s alive.”

Caine’s eyes shot up to him, Charlie, Thell and Hermione. Seeing they were serious, he took his wand and whispered, “ _Vim vitae_.” The egg glowed bright. “Merlin.”

“Curious thing is,” said Thell, “Ade and Charlie checked along the cave at the beginning, as have I before they got there. The egg glowed, but faintly and barely lasted a few seconds. Now, it’s bright and glows for a while.”

“It strengthened its life force? How long in between?”

“No more than five minutes.”

Caine’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his moustache bristled. “What happened between those five minutes?”

“Hermione,” said Charlie simply.

“Well,” said Hermione, “when the egg rolled off, it went to the water. They tried to save it but couldn’t. I ran and dove to catch it before it fell off the cliff, but the water current was strong. Charlie and Adrian’s brother Oliver managed to haul me back, though. By that time, the egg’s colour has become more vibrant and it even wiggled.”

“Impossible,” muttered Caine, captivated.

“When Charlie cast the spell again, well, you saw.”

Just then, the egg wobbled again, causing gasps from those in the room.

“This is indeed strange,” said Caine, leaning his elbows on his table and placing his steepled fingertips on his lips. He seemed to be thinking deeply, his eyes never leaving the egg. The group stood still, as though their movements could distract the director. Without warning, he stood and went to the front of his desk, facing the team. “Weasley, guide Granger through the Reserve. Show her around and show her how things work around here. Help her with what she needs, but don’t neglect your own duties.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wood, research through our archives. See what you can find out about this egg and this breed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Waters, ask around our teams, see if they’ve encountered this breed before.”

“Copy that.”

“Granger, log everything. This will be your research project. They will help you. I want a comprehensive report on everything you can find out about this dragon. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Weasley, take Granger to the Crèche and settle the egg there. Now, all of you get out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hermione grabbed the egg and left Caine’s office. As they went down one floor, Charlie led Hermione into the administrative office of the Research floor. Meanwhile, Adrian had gone straight to the library, disappearing behind thick oak double doors. Charlie could tell by the way she arched her neck to follow him in that she wanted to be there so badly. _All in good time_ , he thought, amused.

The administrator’s office was not a very large room, made to look even smaller by the fact that there were shelves in all four walls. Books – leather bound, hardbound, tomes – all were arranged neatly and organized throughout the shelves. Scrolls and rolls of parchment were stacked perfectly. Quills, inkwells, pencils and strange looking writing apparatus were also organized and categorized to perfection. On another side of the wall, clothing uniform and accessories were displayed.

Charlie turned his charming smile at the bored looking woman that was sat there. “Hi, Millie. How are you today?”

The woman’s features suddenly became stern and sharp enough to rival that of Madame Pince’s. “What do you want, Weasley?”

He sat at the corner of her desk and winked. “We have a new researcher. This one is Hermione Granger. Mione, this is Madame Crosse, she is responsible for –”

“Cleaning up your mess,” said Madame Crosse sharply, before turning to Hermione. “And what do you want, Miss Granger?”

“Er… I’m tasked by Mr. Caine to log everything I could regarding this egg.” She held the egg slightly forward, as though it could be missed with its sheer size.

“Right, everything and a log journal, then.” The administrator stood and perused the shelves, taking what she needed.

Charlie smiled at Hermione. “I’m her favourite.”

Hermione could only raise an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

Madame Crosse poured down her finds onto the desk and pointed them out to Hermione, starting with a thick notebook in a beautiful dark green leather covering. “This is your journal. If you want to create a detailed drawing, simply tap your wand on the object then point to the page and say ‘ _Adumbro_ ’. Whatever it is should be copied to the page in perfect detail. Every page is impervious to water and fire. Except dragon fire. _Do not_ get it burned.” She pointedly looked at Charlie, who was suddenly interested in the ceiling, before placing the leather notebook in a two-toned dark blue and brown canvas messenger bag.

“This is what we call the Stem.” She held up a strange writing apparatus that looked like a quill, but featherless. “As you can see, the stem is wider at the bottom for a more comfortable grip and narrower at the top. You need only to set it in the inkwell once for it to be able to write for a few hours. I am giving you a few and some inkwells as well. _Do not_ break them all.” She pointedly looked at Charlie again, who grinned innocently, before putting them in the bag.

“Here are a few uniforms.” She placed a few t-shirts in. “Once the weather changes, you will be given a few more.”

Hermione slightly squirmed. “Do you have long sleeves?”

Madame Crosse looked at her and dryly said, “It’s the middle of July.”

Hermione shrugged a shoulder but maintained the eye contact.

With a sigh, the administrator went to another shelf and pulled out three tops before pointedly showing it to Hermione. “Breathable. Lightweight. You shouldn’t bake in these.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Dragon-hide gloves, dragon-hide boots, dragon-hide trousers and windbreaker. Protective mask. Protective goggles. And of course, the bag is magically enlarged and impervious both to water and fire as well. It can handle dragon fire, but make sure it isn’t exposed for very long. Even magic has its limits.” She again looked pointedly at Charlie.

“I always love our little visits, Millie,” said Charlie. “I’m glad I had an excuse to see your face again.”

“You mean other than breaking things or setting it on fire?”

Charlie laughed flirtatiously. “You’re the best, Millie. Have a great day!” He grabbed Hermione’s newly given bag, placed the egg inside of it and stirred the amused young woman out the door.

“Nice to meet you, Madame Crosse,” Hermione called behind her shoulder.

Charlie held her hand and practically ran down the stairs with her in tow and out to the grounds where Hermione gave in and laughed out loud. The second oldest Weasley’s face was red as his hair.

“What in the world have you been doing, Charles Weasley?” asked Hermione, clutching her stomach in laughter.

He looked sheepish. “Not my fault.”

“How many bags and journals have you set on fire?”

“It was an accident.”

“Answer the question.”

Charlie blushed a deeper red, but did not answer.

Hermione crossed her arms, refusing to back down.

Then he whispered, “Fifty-three.”

Hermione’s jaw hit the floor. However, before she could comment, Charlie non-verbally summoned a broom. The moment it landed in his open hand, it was Hermione’s turn to blush as she profusely shook her head. “No. Nope. Not going to happen.”

“It’s a half-hour walk to the Crèche.”

“Then let’s walk half an hour.”

Charlie mounted the broom with a smug smile. “You remained calm dangling off a thousand-meter drop with only my hand holding you up. This is a Firebolt, one of the best brooms the wizarding world has ever built, and you are riding with one of _the best_ Seekers to ever leave the Hogwarts grounds, other than Harry.” He extended his hand to her. “Come on, Granger. Like I would ever let you fall.”

Hermione thought about it. Charlie did prove he was worthy of her trust. Part of what kept her calm was looking into his eyes earlier. He was strong and fiercely protective of his family. And he was a gentleman; the fact that her newly given bag was wrapped around his body and has not yet been in her hands was proof of that.

She thought about how the few times she rode with Ron, her boyfriend would deliberately dip the broom to get a rise out of her, despite the fact that he knew she was afraid.

But this was Charlie. Not Ron. “No dips just to frighten me?”

The second oldest Weasley frowned. “Who the hell would do that?”

“Erm… no one.” Hermione accepted his hand and sat side-saddled in front of him.

Charlie made sure to takeoff gently and kept them in the air for a while until she got used to it before flying them over to the Crèche. “Mione, look.”

“No, I’m good,” she replied, eyes tightly shut.

“You’re missing out,” he replied in a sing-song manner, coaxing her.

Slowly, Hermione opened one eye and looked down before turning around and burying her face in Charlie’s neck, making him laugh.

“There’s a nesting Hungarian Horntail on the side of the mountain right there,” he whispered in her ear.

That got Hermione’s attention and she cautiously peeked. True enough, she could see the huge shape of the wyvern nestled in a crevice on the mountainside. She seemed to forget her fear as she leaned forward.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Charlie had to wrap an arm around her in case she fell. Hermione did not care. She wanted to see the Horntail nuzzle its young.

“How old is that baby dragon?”

“The whelp? About eight months old,” Charlie said.

Hermione watched as the young spread its wings. Its mother nudged it in encouragement and the young beat its wings, managing to lift a little. She was not even aware of the fact that she had gasped and held her breath until she heard Charlie chuckling. She did not care. These creatures were well deserving of her breathlessness.

When they landed on the moss and vine covered structure, they heard a roar. Hermione turned to Charlie with wide eyes that were more concerned rather than alarmed. A creature was not roaring in aggression but fear and she wanted to help it. “What was that?”

“Follow me.” With one hand clutching the broom, the other holding Hermione’s, making sure she stayed behind him, Charlie sprinted towards the Crèche. A control panel, similar of those in the muggle world, was visible just between two twining vines and Charlie pressed the code with his wand before a cleft formed in the rock structure where they entered.

“The code is 2-2-2-4-3-7, spelling the word ‘babies’,” Charlie informed Hermione. “It must be pressed with your wand. It opens through magical signature. The code is just a pre-caution.”

Hermione nodded her understanding.

The inside of the Crèche reminded Hermione of a bee’s hive. Five small pockets of warded caves littered the back surface of the mountain side while in the middle was a pit shaped like an oval filled with rocks, logs and small boulders. It seemed to be a playpen for the baby dragons. Farther to the right was a large pit with nothing but hard earth that looked burnt. To her immediate right was a large office that seemed to be carved out of stone with a glass wall that overlooked the place. Desks and shelves and files filled the room, while to her left was a small kitchen, lockers and toilets.

“Stay here,” Charlie told her before handing the bag to her, leaning the broom on a wall and running towards the oval clearing.

There was a young dragon, about two feet in length, thrashing about. It seemed upset, like it was crying. Hermione felt her heart constrict in concern for the creature. Its scales were white, pearly white, and that alone clued in Hermione of its species, a baby Antipodean Opaleye.

Its handler was a tall gentleman with short and spiked red hair. Not Weasley-red hair; but dyed bright red hair. Hermione raised an eyebrow. Then said gentleman turned and her jaw dropped. It was Thell; or someone who looked like him. A twin, Hermione guessed. Helping him was a dark skinned, shaven haired, hazel brown-eyed man with a scar on the side of his neck. They were trying to subdue the little whelp.

Charlie jumped down to the fray and was about to cast a spell, when the Opaleye leapt up and used the stacked boulder to jump its way out of the pit. Before what was happening could fully register in Hermione’s mind, she was suddenly aware of her closeness to the pit. Her concern made her feet unconsciously carry her forward. And right now, there was an escaped baby dragon flying right at her with multi-colored eyes.

***

“HERMIONE!”

Charlie did not know if this woman had the worst luck in the world or just attracted trouble like a haystack in a dragon’s den. Either way, for the second time that day, the dragon keeper found himself running at full speed to rescue the witch.

A scream pierced the air and Charlie’s heart almost stopped. But then laughter followed it, which made him pause.

On the ground was Hermione, squirming underneath a four-month-old cantankerous Opaleye, and she was laughing. Giggling like a child being tickled.

“Hermione? Are you all right?” ventured Charlie.

“I’m – I’m fine!” she responded between laughter.

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. “Witch, have you no regard for my poor nerves?”

Hermione giggled again. “Sorry, Mrs. Bennet. This little one is blowing on my neck and tickling me!”

Choosing to ignore a reference he clearly did not understand, Charlie looked at Michan and Memphis, both of whom were as shocked as he was. Giving a subtle signal for them to spot him, he slowly and cautiously walked towards the witch and the dragon. The whelp seemed to sense him before it even saw him and turned. Hermione took the opportunity to sit down and cradled it in her chest the same way she cradled the egg. To Charlie’s surprise, the whelp nuzzled its face on her neck. Never in all his years of dragon keeping had Charlie witnessed such behavior in a dragon.

Opaleyes were generally not aggressive and rarely attacked unless provoked. It only hunted when hungry, and mostly its choice was sheep. This particular one, however, had been very picky since its’ hatching. Mostly, it was fond of Charlie and even taken to playing with him from time to time. When it was ill, only Charlie could get close. Now that it was better, it was starting to be tolerant to the other dragon keepers. But none of them, however, had ever experienced its seemingly sweet nature. Charlie did not even know dragons were capable of exhibiting such behavior. Yet here they were.

Hermione stood up, now carrying the whelp like a child in her arms. “This one is a darling,” she cooed at Charlie.

“Is it?” asked Memphis, coming up behind Charlie. “It tried to roast me two weeks ago.”

Hermione frowned. Charlie could practically see her trying to harness self-control to stop herself from defending of her new pet. He intervened. “Mione, this is Memphis Blain and Thell’s brother, Michan. Gentlemen, this is Hermione Granger.”

Michan extended his hand, which Hermione shook. “Michelangelo Waters. Michan for short. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine.”

Memphis shook Hermione’s hand next. “Nice to meet you. Are you visiting the Reserve?”

“Actually, I was just accepted,” said Hermione. “Today’s my first day. Say, you were in the Battle of Hogwarts, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.” Memphis tilted his head to show the scar on his neck and pulled back his shirt collar to reveal how far along it got. “Severing Charm. Got me to my pectoral. Would have been severe if Charlie here didn’t blast the Death Eater away.” He patted Charlie’s arm with a smile.

“Charlie’s really good at saving someone’s hide.” Hermione smiled at him. “Saved mine today, too. So, what got this sweetheart so moody?”

“Other than the fact that that one’s been that way since he’s hatched?” asked Michan.

“I thought Opaleyes are not aggressive?” asked Hermione back.

As Michan and Memphis told her of the Antipodean Opaleye’s usual behavior and the peculiarity of this particular one, Charlie observed the whelp. Its pearly white scales glowed healthily, its spikes angled down, showing it was relaxed. It had its eyes closed and its breathing was normal. It was very much the picture of serenity. Steadily, Charlie stroked its head with his finger and the whelp opened its eyes lazily. Multi-colored eyes greeted his and a low, satisfied hum came from it.

“Charlie?” Hermione called him. “Is everything all right?”

Charlie sighed. “I’ve never seen him do this with anyone,” he admitted. “Dragons aren’t…” He was at a loss for what to call it.

“Touchy-feely?” Hermione supplied.

“Sure. That.”

She chuckled. “Well, this one’s a darling. Aren’t you?”

The whelp all but purred.

Michan suggested he take the dragon now and put it in its nest to sleep. When he tried to take it away from Hermione, though, the whemp breathed out smoke before nuzzling back at Hermione.

“I think I’ll hold him for a while,” she said. The other two shrugged and went about their other duties. Meanwhile, Charlie led her towards one of the small caves at the back, particularly the one on the bottom left. This cave was semi-circular and had three incubators, only one of which was lit.

“This is where we incubate the eggs,” said Charlie. “We found this one at a black market raid. We don’t know where it was from so we took it here.” He bent slightly to check on the teardrop-shaped red and orange egg with spikes all around. “It’s a Chinese Fireball.”

“This incubator looks like a pizza oven,” mused Hermione as she bent beside him, careful not to jostle the whelp in her arms. “It’s beautiful. How long until it hatches, do you know?”

“This one has been in incubation for the last six months and there’s still no sign of –” Charlie paused as the egg twitched. “Did that just –”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t think it’s done that before. Stay here.” Charlie ran out the Incubation Ward. He called for Memphis and asked if the egg shook before. When Memphis said negative, they both ran back into the small cave.

“Are you sure it wasn’t a play of the light?” asked Memphis. “I mean it does look like fire. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you.”

“We both saw it,” said Hermione, backing Charlie up. “It wiggled. Does that give any indication of how long it will be before hatching?”

“Yes,” said Memphis. “Depending on the force of the jostling, we’ll be able to tell.”

Hermione turned to Charlie. “What about the other one? Could you tell if – oh!”

The egg twitched again, twice, before it stopped moving.

From her arms, the Opaleye looked at the egg nestled in coal and moved its snout as though he too was looking.

“There’s going to be another newborn soon, darling,” cooed Hermione and the whelp nudged her cheek with its snout and breathed on her. She giggled.

Charlie and Memphis could only look at each other with curiosity.

“Speaking of soon-to-be newborns,” said Hermione and reached into her bag for the egg. The moment she brought it out, the Opaleye straightened its back in attention. “Charlie…” This time, Hermione’s voice held caution.

Charlie took the egg from her cautiously, widely alert in case the whelp attacked.

The Opaleye squirmed and slowly twisted itself in Hermione’s arms and reached out, almost reverently, to the egg. When its small claws touch it, the whelp closed its eyes and touched its face onto it, from forehead to snout, breathing smoke against it. Then blinking slowly, it moved back to nuzzle against Hermione.

“What was that?” asked Memphis softly. What happened seemed to warrant certain reverence and all of them felt it.

Both Hermione and Charlie shook their heads. Instead, Charlie turned and placed their mysterious new egg into the second incubator before setting it ablaze.

Later, he explained to Hermione that eggs needed to be put in the fire for it to fully develop. However, neither of them knew as to how that would affect their new egg when it had been under that cliff for Merlin knew how long.

Charlie thought about it as he showed Hermione around the Crèche. The other caves were available nests where they could keep the whelps with no mothers, the strays, or where the other whelps could go when they were ill. Most of the time, however, the mother wanted to stay with the young, which was why they had the Bay at the far right of the cave.

In one of those warded nests, Hermione tried to put down the Opaleye. Once again, however, it started to emit screeches as though crying. So Hermione did the only thing she could, she went to the cafeteria with the whelp wrapped around her.

Charlie was highly amused at the reactions of his workmates, not just at meeting _the_ Hermione Granger, but at the apparent dragon turned kitten. A big, scaly kitten.

Nicky tried to take the whelp from her and almost got burnt. At that, Hermione turned to the dragon and sternly said, “We don’t burn dragon keepers, darling. That’s not good.”

Charlie could have sworn the whelp looked chastised. Hermione Granger coming to the Reserve could possibly be the best thing that has ever happened in all of wizardry.

***

Hermione was talking animatedly throughout dinner. She could not help herself. Never was there a more interesting topic. Fred and George had come over to ask Hermione how her interview went and they were surprised that she started immediately. They, along with Ginny, Harry and Ron, were quite jealous, too, that she got to carry an Antipodean Opaleye.

“But don’t the babies need to stay with the mums?” asked Ginny.

“Not necessarily,” answered Charlie. “Hermione, want to tell her why?”

Hermione sat straighter in her chair, lamb stew momentarily forgotten. “Since the Antipodean Opaleyes are one of the species who are not volatile and whose intelligence is high, they tend to develop trust with dragon keepers who has proven themselves through experience. Charlie and Memphis were the ones who looked after the baby dragon when it was sick and Michan helped watch over the egg as it hatched, so the mother trusts them.

“Moreover, the dragon keepers at the Reserve allow the mothers to create their own nests outside of the Crèche where the babies are kept before and after hatching. That way, when the whelp is strong enough, the mother will be able to have a nest in an environment more suited to them.”

Fred and George clapped their hands.

“Bravo! Well said.”

“Ten points to Gryffindor!”

“Oh, shut up. Dropouts!” Hermione teased back and had everyone in the table roaring with laughter.

“How old is the Opaleye, anyway?” asked Percy.

“Four months now,” said Charlie. “Within the next couple of months, its ability to breathe out fire will develop further until it stabilizes.”

“Ooh, I got to feed the Opaleye, too,” said Hermione almost giddily.

“Can it feed on meat this young?” asked Arthur.

“Not yet, no,” said Hermione. “But we feed it brandy mixed with chicken blood as a replacement for dragon milk.”

“Eww…” said Ron and Ginny.

“Awesome,” said Fred and George.

“If only the Horntail I faced was that cute,” Harry mused. “Would’ve made the first task easier.”

“Probably,” said Charlie. “If you’re anything like Hermione though, you would’ve just cooed at it.”

Hermione huffed. “Excuse you, I did not coo at it.”

“Oh really?” Charlie took George’s arm, held it to its chest and petted it. “Oh, Charlie, this one is such a darling!” he said in imitation of her.

Everyone around the table laughed. Hermione poked her tongue out at him.

“What else did you see?” asked Ron.

“A Welsh Green flew over us when we arrived,” said Hermione, glad for the change of topic. “Adrian pointed its nest out to me just before we left. It’s almost to the summit of one of the mountains!”

Fred turned to his twin. “We should’ve had a pet dragon.”

“Agreed.”

“NO,” chorused Molly and Arthur.

“We had enough fire hazards coming from your rooms without a dragon in the mix, thank you very much,” said Molly.

“Agreed,” said Arthur. “I love you, my boys, but you have to admit, the repairs in the house dropped considerably when you moved out.”

“Even now, we’re afraid to touch whatever boxes still littered your room,” said Molly. “You have your flat. You should take those with you.”

“I think we’re permanently being thrown out, Gred,” said George.

“I agree, Forge,” said Fred. “And they’ve replaced us with the Dragon Whisperer and Boy Wonder.”

“We’re less trouble,” Harry deadpanned.

“Says Undesirable Number One,” said Percy, which got the siblings laughing once more. Fred high-fived him.

“Merlin, I’ve missed you, Perce!” said the twin.

“I much prefer this version of you to the old one,” said George.

Percy nodded. “I was a prat trying to get ahead at the Ministry, but I’ve seen the error of my ways.”

“Oh, we weren’t talking about that.”

“We were talking about your Bighead Boy days.”

Once again, the two broke out in laughter.

After dinner, Hermione took out her log journal and started to write down things about the mystery egg that they knew so far. She wrote down in detail what had happened at the Wood Estate and the effects it had, though they did not know how. She was bent over the kitchen table, writing profusely, when a knock came. Looking up, she saw the twins.

“Can we bother you for a bit?” asked George.

“Sure.”

They both sat on either side of her. Though their faces bore smiles, Hermione could sense their seriousness and that gained her full attention.

“Hermione,” Fred started, “we love you. You know that right?”

She nodded.

“You’re like family, ever since we were young,” said George.

“But now, even more so. You saved my life without second thought.”

“And for that we’re both grateful.”

They paused.

“When you passed out and we had to send you to St. Mungo’s, Ron told us about Malfoy Manor and what you went through.”

“It really scared us, Hermione. We were scared for you.”

“So, George and I thought we’d do something.”

“Hunt down Bellatrix and make her pay.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide.

“But as you can probably imagine, that was shot down.”

“Mum and Dad, and even Bill and Charlie, told us to focus on healing, not vengeance.”

“So we did.”

The twins pulled something out of their pockets and enlarged it. Two wicker baskets filled with various trinkets rested on the table.

“This one is filled with different scented candles,” said Fred, pointing out the basket brimming with candles of different shapes, sizes and colours. “Every candle is assigned a scent. One helps clear the mind of distractions and sharpen it. Another helps calm the senses, especially panic and fear and invokes the feeling of safety. Another helps to focus the mind in order to study. Now that you have research to do, this will help a lot. Another is to relax the body and the mind to help you sleep.”

“This one is a collection of bath bombs,” said George. “Don’t worry; it’s not as violent as it sounds. You basically throw it in the bathtub with water and it will fill with bubbles that will feel like they’re massaging you.”

“Plus they smell great.”

“That they do. They’ll help you feel relaxed or invigorated or ready to sleep or hyped up or confident. Depending on whatever you need. We have one that has the effects of a Dreamless Sleep without the dangers. Just choose the bath bomb and light up the candle, and you’re good to go.”

Hermione did not know whether she should praise them for their brilliance or cry for their thoughtfulness. “This is amazing,” she said softly, choking back tears. “Boys, I’m so touched you’d do this for me.”

“Anything for you, Hermione,” said George. “You’re like our sister now, too.”

“Which is good, because Ginny has been forever asking for one,” said Fred and pulled her in for a hug.

Hermione finally gave in and sobbed.

George chuckled and sat beside her, hugging her, too. “Weasley sandwich!”

“Healing comes with time, Hermione,” said Fred. “Everything can heal. As long as you’re with family, anything can heal.”


	12. On My Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Thank you very much for all the love you've shown to me by following this story, by bookmarking and giving kudos and comments. I do appreciate them all and they're an encouragement to me to keep on writing. Much love, everyone!
> 
> Disclaimers:
> 
> Both songs mentioned in this story are not my own. They belong to their respective writers and singers. Just as JK Rowling’s characters are not my own, I just play in the waters of the vast ocean she created.
> 
> Having said that, according to cannon, Dolohov's curse does not leave a mark. Yeah, I've gone ahead and changed that for this story. :) Enjoy!

Harry and Hermione loved the Weasleys. They loved that they had parents again, who showed no bias and treated them like they were one of their own. They loved that they had more siblings to joke with and get advice from. They loved that they had a home that was warm and cozy and always had a nice home-cooked meal that could beat out any muggle restaurant with a Michelin. However, what they did not like was the lack of privacy.

Harry was positive he had been walked in on in every state of undress. And Hermione was getting more and more frustrated that every kiss she had with Ron had been caught, interrupted and announced by every single member of the family. Twice.

On the early Saturday morning of the first of August, before the sun even graced the horizon with its rays, the two siblings jogged around the pond near the Burrow. Hermione had finally succumbed into telling Harry what had happened during her first day on the job and her vow to keep fit, and Harry said he would help. He was an official auror now, as was Ron, and he had learnt from his days on the hunt. He would not rely solely on magic and his wand to get himself out of trouble. Physical fitness would help him with a chase and improve his stamina in a duel. Not to mention give him the upper hand in a fight. Therefore, a decision was made for them to help each other out. Ron would go with them during the weekdays, but on weekends, he claimed he needed his bed.

After one last lap, they slowed to a walk and began stretching by the dock.

“I’m planning on renovating Grimmauld,” said Harry, stretching his hamstring. “It’s old and Merlin, hardly a home, but it’s still given to me by Sirius. I want to change it, make it something, you know?”

Hermione nodded. “That’s good, Harry. And we can help, too. Oh, have you told Kreacher?”

“I did, actually. I went there a couple of days ago and called him. We talked.”

“How did he take it?”

“He started playing with Regulus’ locket for a while. Then he nodded. Said he loved his mistress dearly, but his Master Regulus would still be alive if it wasn’t for Voldemort, and his Master Regulus only joined because his mother told him to. In the end, he said he’d get started with the cleaning and everything tainted with dark magic he would remove.”

“Wow, that’s a breakthrough. Do you know what this means though?”

Harry’s smile was wide and meaningful. “I get my room. You get your room. Privacy all around.”

Hermione laughed. “Race you to the kitchen!” She left before he could react and won.

That morning, Charlie and Molly walked in on them singing Old Time Rock and Roll at the top of their lungs as they made breakfast for the family.

Later that day, the Weasleys and Hermione were throwing Harry a surprised birthday bash. Coming to the Burrow were their Gryffindor and Slytherin friends, Oliver and Adrian, some Hogwarts teachers and Hagrid, of course.

As they were preparing, Hermione found herself staring at the mirror in Ginny’s room. She had bought the perfect dress – a yellow halter summer dress that clinched at the waist and ballooned out in an A-line skirt, ending at her knees. It fitted her perfectly and showed off the tan she was getting from spending her days in the Reserve. However, it also showed her scars. The angry letters that spelled out the derogatory word on her forearm glowed angry-red above her skin and the furious purple scar she got from Dolohov peeked on her right shoulder before cutting through her back. So much for the backless dress.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione pulled a cropped cream-coloured cardigan on and pulled at its sleeves. So much for feeling pretty today. Brushing her long hair and plaiting it, she tried to divert her thoughts from its gloominess and onto happier things.

Things were going well at the Reserve, the boys were thriving at their chosen careers, as were their friends. There were still nightmares, but with the help of Fred and George’s products, which Hermione named Pamper Baskets, she was getting through most nights in peace. Things were looking up!

Ginny walked into the room in a gorgeous little red dress that had Hermione’s jaw falling.

“Gin! Dear Merlin, warn a girl, would you!” said Hermione with a giggle.

Ginny blushed. “Do you think it’s alright? Not too much?” She brushed down the spaghetti-strapped lace bodice and pulled a little at the wavy lines of its skirt.

“You look fantastic, Gin,” assured Hermione. “Harry wouldn’t know what hit him.” She smiled meaningfully and the two of them giggled.

“So do you, Hermione. We’ll have to pick up Ron’s jaw off the floor more than usual with that thing.”

Hermione smiled but pulled on her sleeves consciously. Still, she would not let it deter her. This was her brother’s birthday and she was determined not to ruin the fun.

After putting on light make up, the two went downstairs where they saw the marquee already up. In the middle, a long table was put with every sort of food Harry liked that Molly cooked. Front and centre was Harry’s cake, which was three tiered with gold and maroon icing. The bottom tier had icing images of his glasses and lightning scar surrounding it and rotating. The middle tier had a figure of Harry in his broom chasing a snitch zooming around. And the top tier had ‘Happy Birthday, Harry’ twirling round along with his candle. Admiring it was the man who bought it wearing an all-black suit.

“Ferret, you’re early,” called Hermione.

Draco turned, a bored look on his face. “Gryffindork. Whoa Red, damn. Do you want Scar-head to have a heart attack?”

“Flatterer,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

“I mean it. And Gryffindork, you look like sunshine.”

“And you’re still in a suit,” said Hermione.

“Only kind I own, I’m afraid.”

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and together agreed, “We need to take you guys shopping.”

Draco consciously fiddled with his suit. “Is it not presentable enough?”

“We meant to Muggle London,” said Hermione with a smile.

Draco’s eyebrow rose. “What’s in Muggle London?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” said Ginny. “We’ll have to schedule it.”

The blond rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say. Though, seriously, Potter _will_ have a heart attack.”

“I’m all for it; it’d be fun to watch,” said Pansy from the makeshift bar on their left. She was wearing a three-quarter sleeved dark green dress with a Queen Anne neckline. The dress looked elegant yet seductive at the same time. And of course, the outfit was finished with a pair of high heels Hermione would probably have to empty half her vault to afford.

“You look lovely, Pans,” complemented Hermione.

“Oh, I know, darling, I always do.” Pansy gave her a wide confident smile through her lashes. What Hermione would not give to have that confidence. Meanwhile, Ginny took Draco by the arm and showed him around the Burrow.

“But the important thing is,” said Pansy, “ _you_ look amazing. However…” The Slytherin fingered her plait. “This needs to go. Let your hair down.”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’ll be a mess.”

“Nonsense.” Pansy jumped off her chair and began to undo the braid. “And what is with the cardigan? Your outfit’s better without it.”

Before Hermione could stop it, Pansy pulled one side off her shoulder – her _right_ shoulder. Hermione grabbed her cardigan back up, but the damage was done; the Slytherin had seen it.

“I. Am. Sooooo sorry, Hermione,” said Pansy, horrified. “I – I didn’t even think – I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Pans. It’s fine,” said Hermione because it was the right thing to say. But she hated it. She hated that she could not leave the house without a cardigan on or a jacket or without wearing long sleeves. She hated that she had way too many scars. She sighed and turned around to give Pansy control of her hair, which she thankfully did. “I got it our fifth year,” Hermione told her. “We had a fight in the Ministry and Dolohov cast this curse. I managed to silence him, though. It might’ve saved my life, they said. But I still got this scar as a reminder every day.”

Pansy brushed her hair. “Is there no removing it? What about Glamour?”

Hermione shook her head. “Dark curses can’t be covered by Glamour.”

Pansy wrapped Hermione in a hug from behind. “You are still beautiful, Hermione Granger. It doesn’t change who you are, what you are made of and definitely does not diminish your wit, your mind, your heart and your kindness.”

A smile spread on Hermione’s features. “You can be really sweet when you want to be, Pans.”

The Slytherin straightened. “Yes, well, you tell anyone, I’ll hex your eyebrows off.” She turned Hermione around and waved twice at her hair. “There. Ooh, one more thing.” She tapped Hermione’s lips with her wand and smile. “Red lipstick goes with every occasion. Remember that.”

Just then, Charlie, Fred and George entered the marquee carrying crates of different bottles. They paused when they saw the two women, all the more so when Hermione turned around.

She had to admit, Hermione felt good hearing them stutter. She blushed when they complimented her and said it was all Pansy’s doing, which earned her a pinch from the Slytherin.

“Always graciously accept compliments,” she instructed. “And if you are not going to be gracious, be fierce. Understood?”

Hermione smiled further. “Yes, ma’am.”

Next to arrive were Bill and Fleur, adding more dessert to the already full table. Neville, Seamus and Dean came after them with the records Hermione had specifically requested in hand, and she pointed them to where she wanted the record player set up.

Following were Blaise, Theo and Mandy. Ginny took it upon herself, now that the Slytherins were all present, to introduce (in Draco’s case, re-introduce) their friends to her parents and family, who made them feel welcomed. Molly even squashed Draco in a hug and told him how proud she was of the way he, and the others, stood up for what was right. Later they would claim it to be a trick of the light, because none of them would ever admit it, but Hermione saw their eyes mist a little. It was the rapid blinking and the intense staring at the shrubbery and the clouds that gave them away.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, Madame Hootch and Hagid arrived by floo followed by the Wood brothers. It was certainly a varied bunch, but Hermione knew Harry would absolutely appreciate it.

Soon, the hour came. Ron, who was given the task of distracting Harry away from the house while they prepared everything, came out of the kitchen in a rush. He stopped halfway to the marquee before shouting back, “Harry, I forgot! Mum’s told us to de-gnome the garden! Get out here before she comes back or we’ll both be banned from dinner!”

Harry ran out of the house with his jacket half hanging off and glasses askew. He almost ran into Ron before he noticed the marquee and everyone yelled, “SURPRISE!”

George snapped the camera to capture the less than stellar open-mouthed look of bewilderment in the face of the Man-Who-Conquered. It quickly turned to that of realization and then surprise followed by slight embarrassment. He would later blame that on Ron, claiming that if he was not threatened so, he would have come out with more dignity.

Hermione would not have it any other way.

As people swarmed Harry to give him their greetings, Hermione felt fingers touch her palm and clasp her hand. She looked to her left to see Ron with a dazed smile.

“You look wonderful, Mione,” he said softly. He went to kiss her hand, but a look briefly crossed his features. It was gone before Hermione could interpret what it was and he went to kiss her cheek instead. Moving to her right, Ron got them a couple of glasses of punch before sitting down. “You let your hair down.”

Hermione nodded. “Pansy’s idea.”

“Pansy’s a genius.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that.” She looked at him through her lashes before making a quick decision. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, she pulled him and planted a kiss on his lips before standing up to greet Harry, too.

The party led well into the night with Harry being spoiled rotten with gifts. Desserts and drinks were passed round after round. Around the marquee, fairy lights and magically enchanted torches were put up. Hermione added her bluebell lights in mason jars around, too. If not for the aesthetic, then for old time’s sake.

At a reasonable hour, the Professors bid their last greeting and left and the other remaining adults turned in. Drinks flowed along with different conversations happening all at once.

Hermione and Oliver got to chatting once more. Like their unexpected meeting in the Hogwarts kitchen, it was next to no time at all until the two were laughing hysterically. The topic was Hermione’s inner monologue during her first trip to the Wood Estate. Oliver’s curiosity led up to Two Truths and a Lie, which was only interrupted when the others in the party asked what they were laughing so loudly about. Hermione explained the game and soon others were joining in.

At one point, many, many drinks later, Hermione turned to Oliver and whispered, “You want to see me make Harry dance?”

The look of mischief in her eyes caused Oliver to grin. “A galleon says you cannae do it in five minutes.”

“Oh, yer on, Scotty,” Hermione said, mimicking his accent before standing, swaying a little, then walking towards the record player. She put on the song she knew Harry could not resist: Beat It by Michael Jackson. As the song started, Hermione picked up two shots of Firewhiskey and made her way to her brother, who was talking with Theo.

In the back of her mind, she knew ‘excuse me’ was the polite thing to say. However, given her state, she did not want to struggle through it, so instead, she cut off their conversation by sitting on Theo’s lap, thereby blocking his view of Harry and making Harry look straight at her. Two birds, one stone. She was a genius.

“Bottom’s up and a swing?” she asked, offering the shot to her brother.

Harry looked around and back at her. “There are people here.”

“Chicken.” She downed her glass and made her way to the dance floor.

As the chorus came on, Hermione turned and Harry was right there with her, shot taken, doing Michael Jackson moves in full energy. She cheered before joining him, confidently inebriated, in a dance. Their friends started cheering and clapping along. Dean was singing as well.

Hermione herself gave one more swirl before facing Oliver with the cheekiest smile she could muster.

He held up a galleon and applauded her, smiling widely, too.

***

Mandy launched the _Wizarding Herald_ a week later. It was slow going at first, but when witches and wizards began to see the Golden Trio and their highly controversial set of friends with copies, it began to be on-demand seemingly overnight.

In the rare occasion that Hermione would go to the Ministry to report to Moon, she made sure she was seen with the newspaper in hand. When asked by Ministry workers, officials and even the public why she was reading the _Herald_ instead of the _Prophet_ , her answer was simple: journalistic integrity.

The _Prophet_ Headline Betting Pool soon came to Rita Skeeter’s attention and, boy, was she pissed. Articles upon articles hounded and insulted the group of friends ranging from slight truths to ridiculous allegations, but they countered back, betting bigger galleons and putting on a show for the public showcasing Skeeter’s methods. As August rolled into September, the steady decline of the _Prophet_ and Rita Skeeter’s readers continued. And Hermione could not be prouder.

As she closed a copy of the _Wizarding Herald_ , Hermione found Caine sitting opposite her in the Reserve’s cafeteria. “Mr. Caine,” she said. “How can I help you?”

Caine looked from her to the Opaleye whose head was nestled on her lap and back. “This is ridiculously strange, Granger, you must know that.”

Hermione simply shrugged. “Charlie and I are looking into it, as you requested, but no one in the Reserve has ever seen anything like it before.”

“There may be one who can shed some light,” said Caine. “I have a dragonologist coming in from Romania to work the cases with you.”

“Cases?”

“This one and the egg. I want you to learn from her. Behaviourism is her specialty.” With that, Caine stood and petted the whelp. “Meet her at the Crèche. Thell’s bringing her in.” With that, he left, ignoring Hermione’s call to ask for the woman’s name.

Hermione huffed and Adherion the Antipodean Opaleye, who had now grown to three feet, huffed with her, blowing warm air. She then picked up her bag and began her walk to the Crèche, the dragon beside her. It was a cool day this day and Hermione knew come October, the temperature would only go down further until snow came in December. And Scottish winters were always wet and harsh. Soon, she would have to face actually learning how to fly a broom. She had tried talking to Ron about it, but it would seem that he was preoccupied laughing at her to take her request seriously.

Ron… Aside from where the lines blurred between their friendship and relationship, they were doing well. He kept hinting of a surprise for her birthday and she could only blush thinking what could happen. They needed time together and she found she was quite looking forward to it. The girls had also booked her in for some Girls’ Night Out that Friday, before her birthday that Saturday. What that entailed, Hermione was not sure she would want to know.

Hermione was deep in her thoughts that she did not realize she was being followed. The hairs at the back of her neck rising and the feeling of being watched, though, was cultivated in her through the war and so without warning, she turned around and extended her hand before flicking it upward. The incantation, _Levicorpus_ , never left her lips but was shouted in her mind.

A split second later, Ardy and Raphael were hoisted into the air and dangling by their ankles.

“What the hell, Granger?” Ardy cried out.

“How did you even – let us down!” Raphael exclaimed.

Hermione jerked her hand upwards and counter clock-wise, and they both fell. “What are you doing sneaking up on me anyway? Where’s the rest of the Ninja Turtles?”

The Waters boys, Hermione soon learned, were quadruplets. Donatello, known as Thell, was the oldest. His long hair and the scar on his brow easily identified him. He was tall and built, too. The second-born of the four, Michan or Michelangelo, was just as tall, but lean. His short red hair was his signature. Third-born was Leonardo, aka Ardy. He was shorter by a few inches but built and stocky. His short hair and goatee distinguished his features. Raphael, or Aphel, was the youngest. He was as tall as Ardy but leaner. He had his hair sitting just above his brows in a way that reminded Hermione of certain members of a muggle boy band. Raphael was the only one of the four that was fashionable, in Hermione’s opinion – wearing trendy shirts, turtlenecks, sometimes, even leather trousers. Draco, Blaise, Theo and Pansy would be proud.

“Was that wandless magic?” Raphael asked as he brushed off dirt from his clothes. “And non-verbal, too?”

Hermione shrugged and massaged her right palm with her left thumb. “I asked first, but sure ignore me.” She continued on her walk and let the brothers catch up with her.

“Thell’s gone to pick Avienne up,” said Ardy. “And Michan is mooning over the eggs. I think he’s begging even one to hatch soon. We got a pool going and he’s about to lose in a week.” Ardy laughed loudly.

Beside her, Adherion nuzzled at her hip. He could feel it, she thought. Her magic was going haywire again. It was not so bad that she had to be taken to the hospital or even alert those around them. But she could feel her magic fluctuating. Sometimes, she really had to focus in order to do the simplest of spells, and sometimes, well, she just casted a jinx wandlessly and non-verbally without much thought.

Hermione rubbed Adherion’s neck in thanks and kissed his snout. “What’s Avienne like?” she asked. “Caine said she’s to be my mentor.”

“How many mentors do you need?” asked Ardy.

“Charlie and I are to work with her in figuring out what’s going on with Adherion and the egg.”

“Ah, you’re in good hands then,” said Raphael. “Avienne’s wicked smart. Like you are.” He winked.

Hermione ignored him. He was the most flirtatious one of the brothers, a lady’s man from what the others have told her.

They made small talk until they reached the Crèche. Inside, by the play pit, was a woman Hermione had never seen before talking with Charlie and Thell. She had silver hair that reminded Hermione of Illium and purple eyes. She was built strong and she wore a white sleeveless top with brown shorts and brown boots. What grabbed Hermione’s attention, however, was the fact that she had _scars_. Scars that were on full display.

Two long lines cut diagonally on her back by her shoulder blades, giving the illusion of cut-off wings. Another cut horizontally on her right upper arm, perfectly straight. And another still was slanting on her right inner thigh. Still, the woman exuded great confidence and self-assurance.

“Avi!” cried Ardy.

“Vienna, bella!” exclaimed Raphael.

Both brothers ran towards the group and took turns embracing and spinning the woman.

“There she is!” Charlie smiled as Hermione approached with Adherion now in her arms, his long tail wrapping around her waist. “Avienne, I want you to meet Hermione Granger, war heroine, a good friend and dragon whisperer. Mione, meet Avienne Arkady, explorer, dare devil and also a war heroine.”

The two women shook hands.

“I have heard so much about you,” said Avienne, her eyes moving to Adherion. “And apparently, it’s true. Look at this little fellow.”

Adherion huffed and roared.

Avienne raised an eyebrow. “So he still does have the instincts and aggression of a dragon. Yet he seems to soften only to you.” She turned to Charlie and the brothers. “How does he treat you?”

“He’s playful with me,” Charlie replied. “He relaxes enough to sleep on my chest sometimes.”

“Does he also wrap himself around you?” Avienne asked.

“Occasionally, especially if I’m the first one here. But most of the time, when he sees Hermione, he goes to her.”

“I have a hole on my favourite shirt from when he noticed I wasn’t Michan,” said Raphael.

“And I nearly had my hair caught on fire,” said Ardy. “I was just visiting. I didn’t even know what I did.”

Thell lifted a bandaged forearm. “I tried to get him off of Hermione so she can go to the toilet,” he explained with a frown. “He went with Charlie without a fuss, though.”

Beside him, Charlie chuckled and got hit in the chest for it. Adherion roared at Thell, who immediately backed away with his hands up. The whelp, still too young to fly, jumped over to the redhead and perched on his shoulders instead, which was now a chore since he had gotten longer and heavier, watching the oldest Waters.

“Protective,” said Avienne. “Curious.”

“Caine said you’d help us,” said Hermione. “I’ve got my log journals about Adherion and the egg, if you want to look at it.”

“Absolutely.” With that, Avienne looped her arm around Hermione like they had known each other for a while and marched them in the office. She took a seat in the middle of the long table and pulled out a chair for Hermione as well. “Did Caine tell you anything else?”

“That I should learn from you.”

Avienne smiled in a friendly way. “I’ve heard so much about what you, Potter and Charlie’s little brother have done to save our world. I know you must hear it a lot, but you have my thanks.”

“No thanks needed. Charlie mentioned you’re a war heroine, too?”

“Muggle war. I’m a retired Undercover Agent.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “But you’re a witch.”

“Yes, I am. I worked as an auror for about two years before I found out that my father was killed on a mission. According to his friends at the Muggle Agency, there was foul play involved. He was investigating a Mafia boss at the time. So I requested the Ministry to put me on that case.”

“I thought the Ministry doesn’t usually get involved with cases in the Muggle world.”

“And you’d be right. But the Mafia boss was a squib, you see. Who knew how many wizards he had working for him? So they sent me.”

“Did you get justice for your father?”

Nodding, Avienne turned to show Hermione her back. “Got these as well.” She wiggled her brows and smiled. “I call them my angel wings.”

“How?”

Avienne shrugged a shoulder. “Torture. Worked as a part of a joint task force for about three years before I switched careers. But the good thing is I learnt a lot of valuable skills like behavioural analysis that I can apply somewhere else. Also learnt a lot of ways to dodge a bullet, which kind of helps with Horntail spikes and bursts of flames.” She laughed melodically and Hermione could not help but smile, too. She liked this woman and her confidence was wonderful.

“Now Caine’s briefed me on a few things, but not a lot. He said what intrigued him was that the egg you brought responded both to your touch and your voice.” Avienne looked to Hermione for confirmation, but only saw confusion.

“What did he mean by that?” Hermione asked.

“He said when you brought the egg in, it moved because it heard the sound of your voice. And it did not move much for Thell, Charlie and Adrian, but when you touched it, it did.”

Hermione’s brows shot up. “I didn’t realize…”

After narrowing her eyes in thought, Avienne came to a decision and grabbed Hermione’s hand, dragging her back out.

“Where are we going?”

“To test the theory,” she replied, ignoring the boys and continuing on to the back of the Crèche, her focus solely on Hermione. “Caine told me to mentor you and teach you everything I know because you have the brains for it. He also told me to think outside the box. We need to take into account everything that is happening, Hermione, and have an open mind about what we’re dealing with. It is unknown and unfamiliar and if we are to colour it with our opinion, the facts will be whitewashed.”

Hermione nodded her understanding. They entered the Incubation Ward with the boys trailing them curiously.

Michan looked up from his chair. “Can I help you, ladies?”

“No,” said Avienne. “You can take a break or something. We just have a theory to run.”

Michan looked from her to Hermione to his brothers and Charlie, who were crowding the entrance and now looked even more intrigued, if that were possible.

Avienne turned to a nervous Hermione. “Say something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Anything. Do you by any chance sing?”

“Umm…”

“Yes, yes, she does.” Charlie was only too happy to answer.

“Sing something.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Charlie, who only grinned, before settling her nerves.

_From the day we arrive on the planet_

_And, blinking, stepped into the sun_

_There’s more to see than can ever be seen_

_More to do than can ever be done_

Hermione stopped, feeling stupid, when there was a sound of jostling that filled the room. They turned to the second incubator. The egg they found from the Wood Estate had moved. Gasps filled the room and Avienne encouraged Hermione to keep going.

_There’s far too much to take in here_

_More to find than can ever be found_

_But the sun rolling high_

_Through the sapphire sky_

_Keeps great and small on the endless round_

“Look!” Michan pointed at the first incubator. Even the Chinese Fireball egg had begun to move. Adherion climbed down Charlie’s shoulder and waddled to Hermione, looking up at her in utter fascination. Avienne looked positively giddy as Hermione picked up the whelp.

_It’s the circle of life_

_And it moves us all_

_Through despair and hope_

_Through faith and love_

_‘Til we find our place_

_On the path unwinding_

_In the circle_

_The circle of life_

Adherion curled up on her chest, wings spread over her shoulders as Hermione cradled him. Beside her, Avienne gave a silent applause, which the boys copied.

“I think that confirms it,” Avienne said in awe. “They react to you.”

“But why?” asked Hermione, still bewildered by the experience.

“We don’t know yet, but I’m sure we’ll find out.”

They left the Incubation Ward and moved back down to the office, all still flabbergasted over what they had witnessed. When they settled around the table, Avienne wasted no time.

“I have been talking to everyone, getting bits and pieces of information. It’s safe to say there is a connection between you and this whelp –”

“Adherion.”

“Adherion it is. Have you noticed anything else around any other dragon?”

Hermione thought about it.

“The Horntail last week,” Charlie offered and she nodded.

“The Horntail was brought here for a check-up a week ago,” said Hermione. “Charlie and Michan were assisting Memphis. I was behind the glass here, watching.” She gestured to the glass wall in front of them that overlooked the pit. “As you know, Horntails are naturally aggressive and it was really putting the guys through the ropes.

“About half an hour in, it got even more agitated, started roaring and breathing out fire. Then it started going wild. I rushed out to help when it turned its eyes on me. It was going to charge at me, but I just shouted ‘Stop!’ And I had my hand out like this. I don’t know why. Instinct, I guess. And it did stop and landed in front of me. I tried talking to it to calm it down. It listened. The boys were able to do their check-up with no further trouble afterwards.”

Avienne looked deep in thought. “Any experiences with older dragons?”

Hermione shook her head as Adherion looked around. He crawled over the table to Charlie, who pulled out a length of rope that they then used for a tug-of-war.

“Caine wants her to focus on the eggs and Adherion for the time being,” said Charlie. “We were taking her through check-ups and feedings, cleanings and sleep cycles. The Basics.”

“And whenever I have free time,” said Hermione, “I research with Adrian about the egg. We have a few things that could be a possibility, but nothing definite yet.”

Avienne nodded. “Any experiences with any other dragon before?”

“I rode one once.”

Everyone in the room looked at her and paused.

“Excuse me?” said Charlie.

“When?” asked Thell.

“How?” asked Raphael.

“What breed?” asked Ardy.

Hermione shrugged a shoulder. “When we were on the run. It was a Ukrainian Ironbelly that we rescued from Gringott’s after we robbed it.”

“You WHAT?!” Thell roared.

“HOW THE HELL?!” Ardy threw his hands up.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Raphael banged his hands on the table. Adherion was not pleased, but he was ignored.

“HAVE YOU THREE _SERIOUSLY_ LOST YOUR MINDS?!” Charlie stood up and began to pace, massaging his temples with his thumb and middle finger, while his other hand rested on his hip. He was mumbling to himself about ‘miscreants’ and his ‘poor nerves’. Meanwhile, Adherion followed his movements with his head before looking at Hermione and tilting it.

Hermione could not help but giggle. “Charlie, sit down. I’d hate for Adherion to think I’ve broken you.”

The second-oldest Weasley looked at her dryly. “You robbed Gringgot’s and escaped on a dragon, Hermione. What could even warrant such a –”

“It wasn’t our fault entirely. A goblin double-crossed us.”

“Seriously? Merlin, my nerves.” He sat down with his head in his hands.

“Okay, so I broke Charlie.” Hermione would hate to think what his reaction would be if she told him _how_ they did it, much less what they stole. So instead, Hermione looked back at Avienne. “I don’t think the Ironbelly has any connection with what’s happening here.”

Avienne seemed to agree. “Neither, but I don’t want to rule it out just in case. I’ll read through your notes and see if I can find any more behavioural patterns.”

Nodding, Hermione handed her journals over. “Green one is for the egg. Blue one is for Adherion.”

With one final nod, Avienne took Hermione’s journals and left. Thell followed her while his brothers stood there, still looking at Hermione like she had grown another head.

“Er… I’m going to check on the eggs.” Hermione ruffled Charlie’s hair affectionately before leaving the room.


	13. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! I've changed the rating of this fic to Mature. Please take note that this chapter has some languages that may offend as well as scenes that could make a nun blush. Reader's discretion is advised.
> 
> As per usual, your comments and feedbacks are much appreciated. Much love!

The past few days have been insane, but Hermione had learnt a lot. Avienne was a fun person to hang around with and she taught Hermione not just about dragons but also about life. In only two days, Hermione felt comfortable enough with the woman to show her own scars. Avienne listened to how she got them and how they made her feel.

Today, they were at the Bay with Adherion and his mother, Lucile. The Antipodean Opaleye was forty feet long. Her scales were pearly white and her eyes multi-coloured. She was one of the most beautiful dragons Hermione had ever seen. Upon Avienne’s insistence, she sang to it. Lucile allowed Hermione to touch her and seemed to trust her more with her young than Avienne or even Charlie and Memphis, which was saying something.

At the moment, the two women were watching the mother encourage her whelp on how to blow fire. She repetitively showed Adherion by blowing red-hot flames onto a small boulder before nudging a small twig in front of him.

“You know,” said the silver-haired woman as they watched, “the confidence you have in your own skin is a reflection of how much you’ve accepted your scars. You can only like your body if you’ve accepted that your scars are a part of it, no matter how you acquired it.”

“It’s difficult.”

“I know that, honey, but it’s still a part of you now.” She lifted her shirt to show her left side. A large gash sat across her waist and another scar, a thin cut surrounded by skin that had obviously been burnt, sat a few centimetres from her belly button and disappeared to her shorts. “The big one I got from a sword fight.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask. And the little one, well, gangsters are gangsters for a reason. The burn is from a baby Longhorn.” She put her shirt back down. “I have different scars for different reasons – dragons, mobsters, what have you. Some of them, I can live with, others, I hated at first. I would rather not be reminded of the reasons I got them. But it does not change the fact that they are on me.

“It was actually Thell who changed my opinion of them,” she divulged. “We used to see each other back at Hogwarts and after graduation. I broke it off after my father died. Became too focused on revenge – I mean justice.” She gave a wink. “Next time we saw each other, I was so insecure. But he just hugged me and he said he was absolutely amazed at how brave I was. He said he could never stop being in awe that I did not let them defeat me. That I fought to live and not just survive. He said this was my Honour Badge and I should wear it proudly.”

Hermione smiled.

“Those are yours.” She pointed at Hermione’s shoulder and forearm. “You survived Bellatrix freaking Lestrange and Antonin bloody Dolohov at _sixteen_ , honey. Do you know how many people can say the same?”

Hermione chortled. “I guess not many.”

“Not at all.” Avienne placed a hand on her shoulder. “I won’t push you. But you have my full support and my help if you want to try. Even little by little.”

Hermione thanked her and both of them looked at Adherion in time to see him sustain his first full blast of fire.

***

As though the universe was lining up to make the perfect pre-birthday day for her, Hermione did not experience a single nightmare. She started at dawn, running with Harry and Ron around the Weasley property, stretching by the pond and racing to cook breakfast. The boys insisted, of course. While Hermione showered, Harry made her pancakes and Ron made her tea, apparently not getting his mother’s gifts and talents in the kitchen. No matter. When she came back, she took over as the boys raced to the shower. Charlie arrived soon after and sang and danced with her before Molly came and sped up breakfast for everyone. Arthur and Percy came after, already dressed for work, as did Harry and Ron. They all ate as a family before they went to work.

At work, Hermione took care of the Horntail under the tutelage of Avienne and Charlie. She also performed a routine check-up on Adherion, which he was very cooperative with. And afterward, she sang to the eggs and let Adherion fall asleep in her arms.

“What’s the plan for today?” Charlie asked her softly as they sat on big logs in the Incubation Ward, trying not to jostle the sleeping dragon.

“The girls want to take me shopping,” answered Hermione. “Any clue as to what Ron’s gift is, by the way?”

The redhead shook his head and crossed his arms on his chest. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Because you don’t know yourself?”

“Little bit.”

They chuckled quietly.

“So how does it feel like to be nineteen?”

Hermione shrugged a shoulder. “I’m actually twenty… Or is it twenty-one. I’m not really sure.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow, unsure if she was joking or not.

“Third year, I was entrusted with a time-turner because I was taking twelve subjects. I had to repeat my days and hours over and over again to get to all the classes I needed to take. That’s for an entire school year. It all adds up eventually, you know.”

A breath left Charlie as he shook his head. “Just when I thought I got a good grasp of the mad things you have been doing, you one up me and I start back on square one.”

Hermione chuckled and cooed at Adherion when he squirmed. “I’ll make sure to space them out and give you recuperation time then.”

Charlie shook his head. “Well, hopefully you get a quiet year, for once.”

“Not accounting that I work with dragons and they respond to me, you mean?”

“Screw it. You weren’t meant for a quiet life.” Charlie chuckled even as Hermione hit his arm.

“Anyway, I should get going.” Hermione began to transfer Adherion to him.

“Where _exactly_ are you going?”

“Muggle London.” Hermione smiled and just before she exited, she turned back to Charlie. “By the way, Harry and I saved Sirius by going back in time. He was supposed to be given the Dementor’s Kiss, but we broke him out and stopped Buckbeak’s execution, too.” With that she left.

Charlie blinked. “What happened to recuperation time?” he hissed. “Hermione? Hermione! _Granger!_ ”

***

Hermione roamed through the Covent Garden with Pansy and Mandy linked on her arms while Fleur glided like an angel in front of them. Luna and Ginny unfortunately could not make it. Professor McGonagall could hardly excuse them from the school just to go shopping with Hermione.

There were not many people around, thankfully, and the girls hopped from shop to shop. They visited one with scented candles and varied knickknacks and accessories (which reminded Hermione of Professor Trelawney), perfume shops that Fleur absolutely adored, and shoes shops, of course. As of the moment, Mandy pointed them out to a small boutique called _Black & Yellow_.

“A fellow Hufflepuff, Dina Livermoore, owns it,” said Mandy. “They’ve got amazing dresses. You girls are going to love it!”

As they entered the shop, Hermione found herself smiling at the silhouette of Hogwarts on a starry night painted as a mural on the wall behind the register. Around them were racks and racks of amazing clothes. They had vintage dresses, skirts, blouses, shorts and trousers for every occasion. Her eyes immediately gravitated towards a red dress with black polka dots. It had a box neckline with cap sleeves, a tapered waist and a pencil skirt. It was simple, but elegant with a black belt to finish off the look.

“Oh Hermione, yes, definitely,” said Pansy, seeing her looking at it. “You would look _divine_ in that thing.”

“ _Absolument_ ,” said Fleur. “You simply must try.” She took the dress from the rack and basically pushed Hermione to the fitting room.

Left with no choice, lest she risked angering the veela, Hermione changed into the dress and absolutely loved it. Until she saw her scars on full display. The purple scar went below her collarbone and was not exactly easy to hide. When she turned around, she could see it crossing from her right shoulder down her back.

Hermione sighed and Avienne’s words echoed in her ears. These were her battle scars, her badge of honour. This scar was a witness that Hermione was fast enough at sixteen to defend against a Death Eater. Lifting her chin up a little higher, Hermione undid her braid and let her long hair come down her back and her shoulder. She then took her wand and tapped her lips, making it red, before she opened the door and stepped out.

Pansy screamed and clapped upon seeing her while Mandy and Fleur gasped and complimented her immediately.

“ _Magnifique, ma belle_ ,” said Fleur. “ _Tres génial et fabuleuse_!”

“Wonderful, Hermione, absolutely gorgeous,” said Mandy.

“Didn’t I say so?” said Pansy. “Divine. I’m a genius.”

Hermione giggled. “Thank you, girls. Though, I do have something I want to share.” She looked around before she showed them her forearm and then pushed her hair back. “I have these… It’s still hard for me to fully accept them, but I’m working on it. I just thought you could maybe help me normalize it, because I am sick of hiding myself.”

Mandy embraced her without a second thought. “You should never have to hide yourself, Hermione, especially around your friends. We’re here for you.”

“ _Complètement_ ,” said Fleur. “And I am proud of you, _Cherie_. Zat took a lot of courage.”

“Great,” said Pansy. “Now, I was thinking of something more important… Peep toe heels or pumps?” She turned to Fleur. “Do you think we’ll be able to teach her how to walk in these by tonight?”

The girls managed to convince Hermione to buy the dress. She wanted to wear it when they mentioned they wanted to treat her for dinner but they convinced her to save it for her dinner with Ron, wherever it was they were going to, instead. For tonight, Mandy bought her another dress as a gift. Pansy bought her two high-heeled shoes, one for each of the outfits, and then they went for Fleur’s gift… to a lingerie shop. Hermione could have died of embarrassment, but the girls had convinced her.

“You need fuck-me drawers, Hermione Granger,” said Pansy adamantly. “Now go over there and get some or so help me, I will wrestle them on you!”

So now Hermione Jean Granger officially owned three different pairs of lingerie – laces and sheer with garter belts and all.

The girls went to Pansy’s flat afterward to get Hermione ready for dinner at Diagon Alley, where the girls had apparently made reservations. They straightened her hair and Fleur did a gorgeous waterfall braid on her. Mandy did her makeup, finishing with bright red lips as per Pansy’s request. And Pansy pushed Hermione to put on one of her lingerie sets under her elegant maroon dress. The V-neck showed just a hint of Hermione’s cleavage and finished at the bottom with a mermaid skirt that clung to her thighs before curving outwards just below her knees. It was long sleeved, so Hermione could enjoy the night without having to explain herself. And Pansy elected for her to wear the black pumps.

Even as they flooed to the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione could still feel her face burning. The pub was full so they quickly made their way to the back and out to Diagon Alley. Thankfully, not as many people were still on the Alley.

“Walk straight and stop fidgeting,” Pansy instructed sternly.

“I have knickers up my arse, Parkinson,” Hermione hissed.

“Welcome to grown womanhood,” the Slytherin sassed.

Behind them, Fleur and Mandy giggled.

“You do look lovely, Hermione,” said Mandy. “Your dress is perfect, so be confident.”

“Zis is eet,” said Fleur and led the way in to an Italian restaurant called _The Leaning Tower_.

“Granger! Do not make me hex you!” threatened Pansy as Hermione squirmed again.

Fleur gave her name to the Maître D’, who led them to a closed door to the far left.

“Okay, this was a bad idea,” whispered Hermione to Pansy. “Very bad idea. Maybe I should just change for a –”

The door opened and Ron came into view in a navy blue three-piece suit with his hair slicked back, and Hermione shocked into silence.

“Evening, Mione. Ladies,” said Ron but his eyes never left hers.

“Ron?” was the only thing Hermione could say.

He smiled. “Who else could it be?” He opened the door further and all her friends and family screamed out, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Blush and embarrassment forgotten, Hermione took in the sight of all her loved ones dressed in their best and her heart doubled in size. They ushered her in and greeted her, wishing her all the best in the next year to come. Molly embraced her fiercely, Arthur fatherly. Percy shook her hand and kissed her cheek. Harry hugged her tight and spun her around. The twins made a bow each, which she replied with a curtsy, and Bill and Charlie both hugged her and kissed her cheek.

“You’re not in flannel,” Hermione teased and Charlie chuckled. “Must be an important occasion.”

“The things I do for you, sweetheart,” he replied.

Adrian greeted her and Oliver sweetly kissed the back of her hand.

Draco, Blaise and Theo all made a show of checking her out from head to toe before turning on their charm.

“You are the perfect mixture of elegance and divine, Miss Granger,” said Blaise before twirling her to him and dipping her low. “Even Aphrodite would envy your beauty. Simply breathtaking. Happy birthday.”

When he brought her back up, Draco spun her away and bowed low to kiss her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “You are _perfect_. I would gladly leave all the gold in the Malfoy vaults to have you in my arms. Happy birthday to the most beautiful woman in the room.” He kissed her hand again.

Theo took her other hand and made her walk around him. “You look great.”

“Just great?” Hermione teased. “No poetry? No grand exclamations?”

“He’s Theo,” said Harry as though that alone was an explanation. “For him, that _is_ a grand exclamation.”

Hermione and those around them laughed.

“Oh, of course,” said Hermione. “Thank you, Mr. Understatement.”

Theo inclined his head graciously.

Shortly after, they made their way to the table. Hermione sat at the centre and Ron and Harry sat on either side of her. Exquisite food was served and conversations flowed easily.

“I love that dress on you,” complimented Blaise. “You should wear those more often.”

“It’s Mandy’s gift to me, actually,” said Hermione. “And thank you.”

“I’m surprised they got you in heels,” commented Charlie.

“That has everything to do with Miss Snarky McBitcherson over there.” Hermione nodded at Pansy, who gladly accepted the blame.

“It took several threats,” she said, “but it’s all worth it.”

“Absolutely,” said Ron appreciatively, then leaning closer to Hermione, he whispered to her, “You look absolutely ravishing, Mione.”

A blush spread across her face and chest. Hermione whispered back, “Wait until you see what I have underneath.”

Ron had to drink water.

“Draco, how’s your internship at St. Mungo’s going?” Hermione asked, desperate for a topic change.

“Very well,” Draco replied. “Of course, there’s a lot to learn, but I’m taking it all in stride. Thanks to my association to you lot, I haven’t had a lot of patients screaming when they see me.”

Harry laughed. “Well, at least now, when they do scream, it’s because of your face, not your reputation.”

“We are so proud of you, Draco, dear,” said Molly. “You’re making your own way now, making a real difference in people’s lives.”

“Yes, Draco, well done, son,” said Arthur.

Hermione had a smile on her face even as Draco nodded and found his pasta suddenly very interesting. She really was very fortunate to have Molly and Arthur in her life. They have no qualms welcoming strays to their family and their group of friends had been accepted without second thought.

After dinner, Hermione was encouraged to open her presents. Most of them were books – fiction, history, dragons, Muggle and Magical alike. Her absolute favourites though came from Harry and Ron.

“Well,” said Harry nervously. “I know that you’re happy. We have each other and we have a family and amazing friends. But I also know that there will always be a space in your heart for your parents. So I wanted you to have this.”

Harry’s present was a small music box. When opened, a small figurine of her and her parents went around in a circle as Somewhere Over the Rainbow played. Hermione cried.

Ron was last and he stood shifting his weight in nervousness. “We haven’t had the best year,” he said. “But I believe that’s been changing, and that it’ll continue to change. But if you ever needed me, I want to be there with you, even if I’m not physically present.” He gave her a small box.

Hermione opened it and gasped at the silver ring band with three diamonds that lay inside.

“I had it charmed,” said Ron. “I’ll feel what you’re feeling. And if you rub it, we’ll be able to communicate through it.” He lifted his hand where a similar silver band sat on his finger.

Hermione put the ring on and she immediately heard Ron’s voice in her mind.

_I love you, Hermione Granger._

Hermione smiled at him. _I love you, too, Ron Weasley._ She stood up and kissed him as everyone around them cheered.

***

Hermione opened her eyes after the feeling of being hooked around the navel and launched had passed. Before her stood a gorgeous French villa with neatly manicured lawns and pool.

“Where are we?” she gasped.

“Zabini Villa in Roussillon, France,” replied Ron, his arms wide open as he gestured to the beautiful place around them. “Just you and me and the beautiful village below.” He turned her around to face him. “Happy birthday, Mione.” Ron pressed his lips to hers and Hermione happily responded to the kiss, knowing full well that they were not going to be interrupted.

Ron showed her the villa. From the opulent rooms, the spacious living room and the kitchen to the private library. It was almost difficult to bring Hermione back out, but Ron told her they could go to the village.

Roussillon had a quaint little town filled with old colourful buildings. They visited the market and brought fruits and flowers, tasted the local wine and ate the delectable cuisine. They saw a local bookshop that sold a book on this village and Hermione knew she just had to buy it. She shared her findings with Ron and, though he did not usually find history fascinating, he nodded along. Hermione knew he was holding his tongue back for her birthday and she deeply appreciated it.

They later took a walk at the picturesque landscape with its lavender fields and vineyards. Ron had brought a camera with him, which Hermione had charmed to look muggle. With each photograph they took, Hermione knew they were building up precious treasured memories together.

When they returned to the villa, it was in time to see the sunset. The place was beautiful and Hermione felt as though she was in a dream. She was with the man she loved and her best friend all rolled into one. For that reason, she felt no fear wearing her newly acquired lingerie. She felt no insecurity fitting onto her new dress and putting on her high-heeled shoes. She felt no doubt as she put on her makeup and let her hair down. She wanted to _feel_ beautiful and _be_ beautiful for this man. Ron had been with her through every battle. From a mountain troll and bullies to Death Eaters and horcruxes, he had been by her side. She wanted to show her appreciation.

Finishing her look with a cardigan, Hermione smiled knowing she was not wearing it because of insecurity, but because they were going to a muggle restaurant. And for once, she did not feel bad about her scars. She was going to change her lipstick into a brighter red, but Hermione found her magic was not responding the way she wanted it to. She tapped her wand on her palm a couple of times before trying it again, but still her lips remained blush pink. Her magic was fluctuating again. No matter. This night was not going to be ruined.

When she stepped down the stairs to the living room, Hermione smiled. Ron was in a black suit, looking as handsome as he did the night before. And when he looked up at her, she could see his eyes fill with love and lust alike. Before she could even take another step, he was kissing her again and only parted from her when the need for oxygen proved too great.

“You look amazing.”

“So do you.”

“Ready for dinner then?”

“Take me.”

Ron apparated them to an alley in the heart of the village. The restaurant was only a corner away and Hermione felt every eye turn to them as they made their way. She had never been the centre of attention in this way before. No photographers, no reporters, no Rita bloody Skeeter.

“What are you smiling at?” Ron asked her, smiling, too.

“It’s just us,” Hermione replied. “No Skeeter.”

Ron laughed. “No bloody Skeeter. This _is_ fantastic.”

They were seated at a table in the balcony overlooking the village and the sea below. After ordering, the waiter had brought wine for them, courtesy of a certain Mr. Zabini.

“How in the world did you even pull this off?” Hermione asked her boyfriend.

Ron leaned back on his chair and sipped the wine. “I helped him with a little something.”

“Hmm… Tell me more.”

“One of the aurors in the department, Puse, is a friend of that Claudius Jones guy. We met him at the memorial service at Hogwarts.”

“The one who was offering Harry personal security?”

“That’s the one. They really don’t like it that the Minister’s granted the Slytherins the Order of Merlin. Puse said he had a case against Dress Robes and I double-checked his evidences. Something in my gut was not sitting right, so I told Berthanelli our Head Auror about it. He let me take one of our other senior aurors and the two of us investigated. We found Puce tampering with evidence, trying to frame Blaise.” He shrugged. “Blaise did not want me to tell anyone. Instead, he wanted to pay me back for what I did. I wasn’t going to ask, but he brought up your birthday and his villa. So I took the opportunity.”

Hermione smiled. “I’m proud of you. You followed your instincts and it paid off.” She raised her glass. “To you.”

“Thanks, Hermione.” He clinked it and they both drank just as the food arrived.

They made small talk about work, about family, but nothing concrete. Hermione could tell Ron wanted to leave. She could sense him from the ring. She could see it from the way he looked at her. He wanted her.

Dinner was a quick affair. As soon as desert was finished, they left and apparated back to the villa, right to the master’s suite. Not even a second after landing, Hermione found herself pulled into Ron’s chest. His mouth was on hers in a way that was urgent. Like she was an oasis and he was a man who had been roaming the desert. He wanted and needed her.

Hermione combed her fingers through his hair and kissed back with as much vigour as she could muster. Soon, his suit was peeled from him and his tie hastily taken off. She was removing the buttons of his shirt when she felt him suck at her pulse point and that had her knees buckling.

Thinking quickly, Ron lifted her to the bed and pulled down the zip of her dress. He kissed her neck and nibbled her earlobe until she was moaning beneath him. Slowly, he peeled off her dress as she toed her heels off. The moment Ron saw her lingerie, he moaned.

“Merlin help me, witch…”

He kissed her again, his hands exploring everything he could touch until Hermione was arching her back to him. But Hermione needed more. In a bold move, she flipped them so she was straddling him. She even buckled her hips to his in a move she was sure would earn her Slytherin pride.

Ron’s hand travelled to her back to unhook her bra when he suddenly paused.

Hermione circled her hips on him again, but still he did not move. When she opened her eyes, he was looking with horror at the sight behind her. Instincts kicked in. Hermione jumped to the bed beside him and turned, ready for a fight, when she was faced with… a mirror. Confused, she turned to her boyfriend. “Ron? What’s wrong?”

Ron’s eyes, however, was glued to her shoulder. “Hermione, what is that?”

She looked down and saw the purple scar. “It’s the scar I got from Dolohov during the fight at the Ministry, remember?”

“Remember? I didn’t even know!”

Hermione slowly pulled her hair over it, her confidence gone away like her breath at the look on Ron’s face. “I – I didn’t show everybody after the – the battle,” she said in a small voice. “And of course, Madame Pomfrey kept me covered at all times. It – it just sort of remained that way.”

“No, I got that. But why couldn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

The silence that descended upon them was deafening. Hermione watched as Ron’s sneer became deeper and his disgust became more apparent.

“How long is it?” he blurted out. “I felt it go to your lower back. How – how long is it?”

Consciously and feeling increasingly stupid for even wearing this stupid garter belt, Hermione pulled the thing down to show how the scar wrapped around her left hip.

Ron made a noise she could only describe as disgust and threw her leg off of him before standing up to pace. Hermione could feel the sting of the tears in her eyes, but she did not permit them to drop nor for her lower lip to shake.

“Ron, I –”

“I just – I just need time to think,” Ron interrupted. “Hermione, that thing – it –” he sighed and gripped his hair. Hermione could already see the unmistakeable sign of his anger and frustration. “Two – three years and you never thought to say anything to me?”

“Ron, I didn’t think it was that important –”

“It’s dark bloody magic on you, Mione! It’s never going to heal, never going to go away!”

“You don’t think I don’t know that? I just thought –”

“What? That we could pretend it doesn’t exist? That it didn’t happen?” Ron showed her his arm with the swirls where the brains had latched on to his skin as well as the scar from his splinching. “You knew about my deformities. At least I was open to you about – oh, Merlin, I can’t do this.” He picked up his shirt and left.

“Ron! Ron, come back! Ron, please!” Hermione shouted, tears pouring from her eyes. She was going to follow him when she heard the crack of apparition. She sat there, in what was supposed to be their bed, feeling like her heart was being squeezed from inside her chest.

Hermione had never felt so ugly in her life.

***

Charlie was eviscerating Harry in their game of wizard’s chess and he was loving it. Percy looked up occasionally from his book to goad Harry and inflate Charlie’s steady growing ego, but kept on reading regardless.

“How do you think the lovely couple is doing?” Percy asked.

Harry help up a finger. “Whatever it is they do or do not do shall not be speculated upon in my presence,” he said. “They’re happy. We’re leaving it at that and I do not want details on –”

The floo burst into life and Thell’s face came into view. “Charlie? Charlie?”

Charlie was immediately on his feet. “What’s going on?”

“Come through. Now! The dragons!”

Thell disappeared and Charlie summoned his dragon-hide boots and jacket and hastily put them on. “Tell mum and dad there’s an emergency. I’ll contact you with details tomorrow.” With that, he stepped into the fireplace and called for the Reserve.

The moment he stepped out of the fireplace in Central, he immediately saw the problem. In the dark, in the crevices and summits of the mountains, pillars of fire blew upwards as the dragons roared and wailed.

When he got to the front steps, Avienne came to him with a look of concern on her face.

“I’m worried about Hermione.”


	14. Concerning Me, Concerning You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the love and support and for investing into this story. I really do appreciate every kudos and comments :)
> 
> Here we go again...
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> The song used here does not belong to me, nor was it written by me. All credit goes to its original singer and writers. I'm just using their paint to colour my canvas

Hermione was fine. She was with Ron. They went on a romantic weekend away and they were happy.

That was what Charlie continued to tell himself. His brother may have been a crass growing up, but he loved the witch. He would never do anything to hurt her. Right?

The dragon keepers took all night to try to calm the dragons. Charlie was called specifically to the Crèche because Adherion was burning anyone else who tried to go near him. His mother, Lucile, came into the Bay without being bought in and Charlie, Michan and Memphis prepared for trouble. What they did not prepare for was for the dragon to let out a roar of pain. It was not quite a howl, but a screeching, grating roar that made Charlie’s heart ache.

Near dawn, the dragons calmed. Adherion fell asleep crying on Charlie’s chest. And the dragon keeper could not get his mind off of Hermione.

It took Avienne asking the keepers when the dragons were last acting this way for Charlie to realize that it was the same day Hermione had lost her parents. That day at St. Mungo’s, he came just in time to hear the Healer say she was utterly drained, her magical core unstable. What happened now? And why was it that only the dragons here in Britain were affected? Avienne had floo-called Romania to ask if they had dragons acting strangely, but their answer was a negative.

With a sigh, Charlie slumped further down in his log chair in the Incubation Ward. All this restlessness was bad for the eggs. He increased the fire to keep them comfortable and was glad when the eggs stopped shaking. Occasionally, he would hum out a tune for them the way Hermione had done the past few days. It did its job in comforting Adherion; he could only hope it did the same for the eggs.

Around ten the next morning, Charlie tried to go home, but every time he did, Adherion would act up. He tried putting him with his mother, but even Lucile could not calm the whelp. In the end, she bit Charlie’s flannel and dragged him back to the Bay, plopping him next to Adherion to the amusement of the Waters brothers, who Hermione had taken to calling the Ninja Turtles. Charlie did not understand the reference, but the mental image was funny enough.

“Well, I guess I’m staying,” Charlie muttered to the whelp. He picked up his wand and conjured a patronus. A Chinese Fireball burst out from the tip of his wand, flew around the high ceiling of the Crèche before landing in front of him.

Adherion immediately looked up and walked away from Charlie towards the silver-blue dragon.

“Mum, Dad, it looks like I’m staying at the Reserve for a while,” said Charlie. “The dragons are on edge and I can’t leave the little one here or else he’ll cry. When Hermione comes, please tell me straight away. There are… important matters that she needs to know about and we need her here. Thanks.” When he finished, his patronus nodded its head to him then to Adherion, who tried to touch it but could not. The little whelp settled for hovering his face against the patronus, snout-to-snout, forehead-to-forehead, and the patronus did the same.

With that, his patronus flew away. Adherion watched it disappear through the cavernous ceiling and turned back to Charlie.

“What was that?”

Charlie looked up and saw Avienne leaning on the railing. “I don’t know. But he’s done it before.”

“To Hermione?”

“No, to the egg,” Memphis answered.

“Which egg?”

“The egg upstairs. The mysterious one.”

Charlie could feel the silver-haired woman’s brain whirring.

“In New Zealand,” said Avienne, “the local people, called the Maori, have a tradition that’s the Hongi. It’s their greeting. In some formal occasions, it’s considered sacred, a physical act that reflects a spiritual one. They shake hands and press their foreheads and noses together and share breath. It’s a metaphorical exchange of breath and knowledge and a welcoming. The Opaleye is a native of the country. I’m wondering if there’s a significance.”

“Could be a possibility,” said Charlie.

“But why only now?” asked Memphis. “I’ve never seen an Opaleye do that. Lucile has never done that. And the whelp doesn’t even do it with all the dragons.”

“True,” said Charlie and turned to Adherion. “You don’t like the Horntail very much, do you?”

Adherion blinked at him then curled around his lap.

“Let me do some research,” said Avienne, “then I’ll get back to you.”

As he petted the whelp and leaned on Lucile, who was trying to sleep, Charlie thought about the possibilities. It was possible that Hermione caught a glance of the _Daily Prophet_. It was possible that she was enraged by Rita Skeeter; they did have a history. It was possible that she did not want to be in the spotlight and have every detail of her life embellished upon and published for the whole of Britain to speculate.

Charlie sighed. Who was he kidding? Hermione did not read the _Prophet_ anymore; it was against the rules. And Hermione had always been a stickler for rules. Well… almost.

***

Ron had come back before dawn showering Hermione with kisses she was too numb to feel. He apologized for leaving and for acting rashly. He said he always was impulsive. He loved her still, though. He still felt strongly about her. It was only her scars he did not like. They were a constant reminder of the times that he was not able to protect her, he said. It was a reminder of dark magic he was not able to stop from touching her.

Hermione could not feel a thing. She let him talk. She barely heard what he was saying. She felt empty. Inadequate. Not good enough.

Ron fell asleep, his forehead still creased from his guilt. Hermione got up and started the shower. As she got under the water, she turned it scalding hot. She wanted to rub her skin off. Rub her scars off. Rub any feeling off. She was lost and hollow. She was damaged.

She dressed in her jeans and long sleeves again, careful not to show any skin. She hated herself. She was hiding again.

The sun peeked at the horizon and Hermione watched, leaning against the threshold of the back door. The pool glistened before her and the garden buzzed with insects, the flowers slowly blooming to greet the sun. It seemed muted to her now, its beauty diminished. All she could think about were the dragons. Adherion, who had learned to breathe fire. The two eggs that were hopefully close to hatching. The Horntail that was learning to fly. Ron’s look of utter shock and, later, disgust upon seeing her naked. Ron’s sneer at seeing her scar. Ron’s retreating back as he walked away, unable to be in her presence any longer –

Hermione looked down and closed her eyes. She wanted to cry, to throw a tantrum, but nothing would come out. No tears, no screams. She was done.

The thought of leaving crossed her mind last night. But where would she go? Back to the Burrow, where they would all ask with happy faces how the weekend went? Where else was there for her to go? Grimmauld was still being remodelled. Harry had dismantled every dark wooden floor of the place. Where was she to sleep? The basement where Remus’ cage still stood?

And what of coming back? Could she simply live with Ron again, knowing his disgust for her body? What kind of future was there for them? She did not know.

There was movement behind her and Hermione tensed but did not move. She felt Ron’s hand on her back, careful not to touch her scar. And like lightning, she remembered Harry’s birthday. Ron had grabbed her hand and was about to kiss it, when he stopped and kissed her cheek instead. It was only know she realized why he stopped. It was her _left_ hand he was holding, her _left_ that bore the ‘Mudblood’ scar. Afterward, he moved to her _right_ and settled there. Come to think of it, he always held her right hand, always sat at her right side. Was that why? Because she had _that_ scar on her left?

“Mione, I’m sorry,” said Ron. “I was wrong to react that way.”

Guilt. Guilt overwhelmed her from the ring that was still on her finger. She could not feel it last night. He must have taken it off. Now, though, it was all she could feel and she hated it. What was he feeling from his ring, she wondered. Could he feel anything at all? Because she sure as hell couldn’t.

The portkey dropped them straight to the Burrow’s backyard, and the moment they landed, Hermione wished she could be anywhere else. Her skin crawled at the thought of being asked about her weekend. Her gut wrenched at the inevitable lying she would have to do to convince their family that she was okay.

Ron touched her arm and she realized she still has not moved, not even to let go of the sunglass case they used as a portkey. She shoved it in her beaded bag out of habit.

“Mione, are you –”

“I’m fine, Ron,” she said monotonously and walked towards the house.

The moment she opened the back door, Arthur greeted her and upon hearing him, Molly came from the kitchen.

“Oh, my dears! How was France?” Molly jubilantly asked.

Hermione allowed herself to be embraced by the matriarch and surprised herself with the thought that she was going to miss Molly when she moved out. “It was beautiful,” she said. “There’s a small village down from the villa and everywhere you looked was just picturesque.”

“Oh, I’m glad, dear!”

“Yeah,” said Ron. Hermione could tell he was trying to be excitable for his parents, too. “We took a lot of photographs. You would’ve loved it there, mum.”

“Oh wonderful!”

Molly kept her chatter up, but Hermione was already tuning out. She found herself looking around the Burrow like she was trying to memorize it. Emotionally, she was ready to leave, she found. Mentally, she was still trying to come to the same conclusion with logic. But fear was pulling her back. She did not know where to go, where to stay.

“You all right, Hermione?” asked Arthur.

Hermione realized it was just the two of them now. Molly and Ron must have gone to the kitchen. “Just wondering where Harry is,” she lied.

“At Grimmauld,” said Arthur. “He brought your friends along and said they were going to be demolishing a few things.” He chuckled. “I’m quite excited what he is going to do with the place, frankly.”

“So am I.”

“Oh, I’ve just remembered. Charlie was called into the Reserve last night.”

Hermione’s focus immediately zeroed in on her father figure. “What? Why? What happened?”

“Something about the dragons being on edge. We didn’t get specifics. But he patronused this morning; said he was staying a while. Apparently, there was a little one who’d cry if he left.”

“Adherion.”

“He said they needed you there.”

“I’ll have to go. Please tell mum –”

“Don’t worry about it. Go.” Arthur smiled an understanding smile at her, full of love. “You and Charlie are much alike when it comes to your dragons. I’m grateful you have something to make you happy.”

Hermione’s eyes misted. She was going to miss Arthur, too. “Thanks dad.” With that, she stepped onto the fireplace and shouted for the Reserve.

***

When Charlie next opened his eyes, it was to see Adherion wrapping his wings around Hermione and the witch closing her eyes as she nuzzled the dragon. Even sitting on the steps of the Bay, she looked tired. Dark circles were under her eyes, which meant that she must not have slept. Skin pale, hair lacklustre, it was like looking at Hermione as how she was after the war. All that change, glow, joy… gone. Her eyes had that faraway look again, like she was not really here. Charlie did not move.

“Did you miss me?” she asked the whelp softly. “I missed you. I really missed you…” She scratched his neck.

Charlie was conflicted by the tone of her voice. He had not heard her speak in that tone since she talked to him about missing her parents. What the hell happened?

Cradling the growing Adherion to her chest, Hermione stood up and began to walk about the Bay. Charlie closed his eyes and let her alone with her thoughts for a while. Then she began to softly sing.

_If I… should stay_

_I would only be in your way_

_So I’ll go… but I know_

_I’ll think of you every step of the way_

_And I… will always…_

She sighed heavily.

_Bittersweet memories_

_That is all I’m taking with me_

_So goodbye, please don’t cry_

_We both know I’m not what you… you need…_

Another sigh. “So stupid…”

Adherion made a purring noise at the back of his throat, clearly trying to comfort the witch.

“No use, is it? I just thought… I’m so… Just never enough, huh, Adherion?”

Lucile nudged Charlie so he fell forward and rolled onto the hard ground. Evidently the dragon was awake and tired of him pretending to sleep.

“Lucile! That was rude!” Hermione chastised, and briefly, Charlie wondered if dragons could roll their eyes.

“Ow, no, it’s fine. I’m fine,” said Charlie, brushing himself off and standing.

Lucile grunted and blew smoke. Charlie took it as a warning to get his act together. He really did not want to piss off a forty-foot, fire-breathing dragon.

“It was still absolutely uncalled for!” said Hermione.

“Hermione, I admire your willingness to stand up for me, but she’s a dragon. She’ll win this argument.”

The brunette pouted. On her chest, Charlie could have sworn Adherion was laughing if his snorts and soft growls were any indication.

Unsure of how to move forward, Charlie simply did not say anything but looked at her. He did not want to ask what was wrong in case she got defensive, or worse, lie. He did not want to ask why she was back earlier than she was supposed to. He sure as hell would not ask how it went. So instead, Charlie walked to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. No words, just comfort. He kissed her temple and walked with her back to the steps where they sat.

The witch leaned her head on his shoulder and continued to pet Adherion. And they stayed that way for a while before Charlie broke the silence.

“The dragons acted up last night,” he said softly.

“So I heard.”

“I meant all of them. Every single one.”

Hermione looked at him and he looked back at her.

“They roared like they were in great pain and they shot fire into the skies. Do you know why dragons shoot fire into the skies?”

“To release emotion. Similar to when a human screams.”

Charlie nodded and spoke to her in a slow manner, trying to lighten the blow of what he was about to say. “Hermione, that was not the first time they did that. The first time was when you lost your parents. Every single one of them felt your pain. And yesterday, they did, too.” He held her hand as her eyes began to water. “So please don’t tell me you’re okay, because I heard the pain in their screeches and their screams. Lucile’s damn near broke my heart.” He squeezed her hand. “If you don’t want to talk to me about Ron’s stupidity, that’s okay. Just talk to somebody. Because it hurts to see you like this. You were so full of wonder and joy and now… it’s like after the war all over again. So if you want my help, I’m here. If not, I’m still here. And so are your friends, and everyone here at the Reserve. And our dragons. Okay?”

Hermione nodded and threw her arms around him. She inhaled a shaky breath, but when they parted, there was emotion in her eyes. Charlie would take that over nothing any day.

***

Hermione broke a rule.

She sat, horrified, as she clutched yesterday’s and today’s issues of the _Daily Prophet_ in the cafeteria. Around her, her workmates were desperately trying to contain their laughter.

From yesterday’s paper, at the very front page, were two photographs: one of Ron clutching a small ring box as he exited _Enchanted Jewellers_ , another of Hermione and the girls on their shopping trip in Muggle London, in a lingerie shop, for Merlin’s sake! The headline read, ‘ _The Golden Couple to Tie the Knot!_ ’

Today’s paper boasted a photograph of the two of them in France, sipping wine at the café, having dinner, walking hand in hand through the cobbled streets. ‘ _The Dream Honeymoon in France_ ’ it read.

“I’m going to kill her,” said Hermione. “I’m going to bloody kill her! Roast her! Freaking drag her by her bloody blonde hair all the way to the Horntail’s cave!”

The Ninja Turtles and Memphis, along with several others, burst into laughter. Beside her, Charlie was shaking his head and glaring at the men as a warning, but none of them heeded him.

“Adherion,” said Hermione and extended the newspapers to the dragon sitting at the back of her chair.

Adherion, being the good dragon that he was, breathed fire onto the papers.

That shut everyone up.

Patting her shoulder, Hermione waited for Adherion to curl himself around her before standing up and leaving the cafeteria, the burning newspapers still on the table for all to see.

“Damn, she’s scary,” she heard Memphis say.

“I tried to warn you,” said Charlie.

A minute later, he was jogging to keep up with her.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

Hermione blinked her eyes from the painful reminder of the things she would probably never have. “Nothing.” She walked faster and Charlie got the hint and let her go.

Charlie had caught Hermione up on Avienne’s thoughts on Adherion’s behaviour and had done research with her. She came home late that Sunday and rushed to work the next morning, refusing breakfast, claiming that she was late.

Every day for a week, Hermione skipped breakfast and came home after dinner. She went to the Burrow to sleep and that was all. Come Friday, she was seriously considering sleeping in the office in the Crèche, but did not dare push Charlie’s patience. He had not asked what had happened. No one in the Reserve had, but Hermione could feel the tension when they had to mention the behaviour of the dragons in relation to her.

What they had discovered was that the older dragons did not much mind Hermione’s existence when she was feeling any normal emotion. It was when she was feeling strong emotion that they related to her and paid attention. They learnt that by the fact that Lucile was attentive to her on Sunday afternoon, but indifferent to her come Monday and the rest of the week.

Adherion was notably more clingy on Sunday afternoon, too, than he was the rest of the week. He embraced her less, but perched as though lounging, as per usual, across her shoulders or on her lap.

When the next Saturday came, Hermione found herself with no excuse to go to work. As she lay there contemplating what she was to do next, a knock came at the door. Before she could pretend to be asleep, Ron had walked in.

“Can we please talk?”

Every time he was in her vicinity, she could feel guilt pouring out of him in waves.

“Harry’s getting suspicious,” he said, sitting on Ginny’s bed. “Mione, I don’t know what else to do. Talk to me, yell at me. Punch me like you did Malfoy, just please…”

Hermione sat up from her bed and she watched as Ron flinched from seeing the scar on her shoulder and forearm. “Is this how it’s going to go?” she asked. “You see me and you wince?”

“No. No, of course not. You’re still you –”

“And these scars are a part of me.”

“No, that’s Dolohov’s mark on you. That’s Bellatrix’s mark on you. That’s _not_ you.”

“It’s on my body, Ron. I cannot separate myself from this.”

“I know that –”

“Do you? Because you keep talking to my scars like they are a separate thing from me that just managed to leech itself to me.”

Ron ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “What do you want me to do, Hermione? Act like dark magic and cursed wounds are just a normal thing on you?”

“Yes, because it is. I am not going to spend the rest of my life hiding away, Ronald. This is my body. These scars are badges of honour –”

“Honour?!” Ron stood up. “What’s honourable about dark magic, Hermione? What’s honourable about Bellatrix’s torture? What’s honourable about _that_ word permanently on you?”

Hermione refused to look away. “I survived. _That_ is the honour that comes with it. I _lived_. They tried to break me and they _failed_. That makes my battle scars damn honourable.”

The redhead simply stared at her for a while before shaking his head and leaving.

Hermione wanted to throw something at the door and felt sparks around her clenched hands.

 _Stop it, Hermione_ , she commanded herself. There was no use getting worked up. No use disturbing the peace in the Reserve with the dragons calmed down. She took a deep breath and exhaled. She was going to be fine.

***

The first time it happened, Ron was drunk. When he came to senses after the deed, he left as quickly as he could.

The second time it happened, Ron blamed it on the stress and the frustration. He felt useless and helpless. Everything was out of his control and there was nothing for him to do but wait.

The third time, he sought it out. He wanted release. He needed an excuse to let out anger and frustration.

It reminded him of his incapability, his uselessness. Now she was paying the price. He could not stop Dolohov’s curse. He could not stop Bellatrix’s blade. He had no control over the situation. But this… this he had full control. Everything she felt was because of him. Everything she enjoyed was because of him. Every sigh, every moan, every groan was his doing. And at least in this, he was satisfied.

***

It was late, but Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt still sat in his office. The running of the Wizarding World after a war was not a simple task. There were people to catch, people to bring to justice and laws to pass for the good and prosperity of his people. Corruption had to be uprooted.

A knock came to his door and he bid enter.

In came a witch cloaked in black with the Department of Mysteries insignia stitched to the breast. She stopped just short of Kingsley’s desk.

“Have you found it?” the Minister asked.

A shake of the head. “I’m afraid the prophecy has already been heard, Minister.”

Kingsley sat bolt upright. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it is empty.”

“But… But I thought only when the one who is prophesied to hears and understands the prophecy does it cease to exist…”

“Precisely, Minister.”

Kingsley’s head swam at the implication. “Is there not a written copy? Surely something that old…” he let it hang, knowing it was a long shot.

The Unspeakable fidgeted. “There might be one more copy, Minister.”

Hope burst forth in Kingsley but he tried to contain it. Surely, it was not going to be that easy. “And?”

“There is a rumour of a Seer from the mountains of Scotland that is said to be a descendant of the one who gave the prophecy. They _might_ have it in their archives, or perhaps possessed a communicated knowledge of it.”

Kingsley took a deep breath. “Who?”

“A descendant of a Viking King.”


	15. Claiming It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive. We have some Oliver in this chapter!
> 
> Thanks so much for the comments, you guys. They made me laugh and feel loved and motivated to crank out some more chapters!
> 
> As per usual, here we go:  
> All songs used in this story is not my own and is not credited to me. All credit go to their respective singers, writers, composers and studios. Just like Harry Potter characters and world are not my own, but JK Rowling’s. I’m just using their paint to colour my canvas.

For a month now Hermione and Ron had been dancing around each other. Harry and the family had noticed pretty quickly, but the two would not speak of it. Whenever they talked, they argued. The only time they were civilized was when another person was there and even then, the conversation was dryer than a bone in the middle of the desert. Once, Hermione went for a run in a t-shirt with her scar uncovered and Ron would not even acknowledge her presence when she came back in.

Tired of it all, Hermione decided to show the family her scars one night, if only to gain the freedom from hiding it. Ron flipped when he walked in right in the middle of _that_ conversation. Hermione just so happened to have her back turned with her shirt lifted to show the bottom half of the large scar at the time. Ron asked her what the hell she was doing and insisted she covered herself. An argument broke out between them and Molly had to step in and order the _boy_ to his room. Harry was none too happy either, but he did promise to talk some sense to his friend about it.

In the steadily cooling October’s end, Avienne decided to host a bonfire for her birthday by the clearing on the south-eastern mountains. It was nothing fancy, just a barbecue and a few drinks. The clearing was sat in the middle of six cottages of various sizes and shapes, all stone made. To the right side of the clearing, a wounding path led further up the mountain where three more stone houses overlooked the ones underneath.

At the moment, Ardy and Thell were setting up the drinks while Hermione helped the birthday girl set up tables.

“Ron hates them,” the brunette was saying. “We just had an argument last night. I was on my way to bed, for Godric’s sake! I wasn’t going to sleep in long sleeves.”

Avienne shook her head in sympathy. “But how are _you_ doing? How are _you_ with your scars?”

Hermione straightened and thought about it. “I feel like I could come to terms with them, but there’s still a small part of my brain that thinks maybe Ron was right.” She fiddled with the bottom of her shirt. “That I’m hideous.”

Avienne strode to her and tilted her chin up so brown eyes were looking right at purple ones. “You are most definitely _not_ hideous, Hermione Granger, so you get that ridiculous notion out of your head right now.” She pulled out plastic cups from a paper bag and set them along the table, fixing the plates and utensils as well. “I want you to realize that how you look at it will colour the response of others. If you treat it like a badass experience, they’ll see it as such. If you treat it like a fragile, horrific ordeal, they’ll see it as such. If you accept it, they will, too. It’s up to you how you want your scars to be seen, honey.”

Hermione nodded. Avienne treated her scars casually and displayed them proudly. No one had ever pitied her for them or felt sorry. As a matter of fact, Hermione admired her for them. There was wisdom in her words and Hermione decided she would put it to practice. She would not be a slave to the scars that mar her body, but she would wear them proudly, like Avienne did hers.

“Well, well, looks like we aren’t late after all.”

Hermione turned to see Illium Priestley leading half of Puddlemere United into the clearing.

“Brother!” Avienne ran to the silver-haired man and jumped into his arms. Illium picked her up like she weighed nothing and spun her around.

“Happy birthday, Vivi,” he said and peppered her in kisses.

Meanwhile, Oliver had made his way to Hermione and closed her mouth for her. Hermione swatted his hand and he laughed.

“Afternoon, lass,” greeted the Scot. “A take it ye had no idea they were siblings?”

Hermione shook her head. “I thought they looked similar, mainly because of the hair.”

“Aye. Same mother, different fathers. Hence, he’s Pureblood and she’s Half-Blood. But ontae a more important topic.” Oliver grinned widely. “How’s married life treatin’ ye?”

“Oliver Wood, I will hex your bollocks off and burn them with dragon fire if you _ever_ ask me that again,” said Hermione, to which Oliver had to lean over the table in order to support himself, he was laughing so hard. “Arse.”

“Maybe so, but am clearly the best kind. Ye knoo the shapely kind of arse? Bouncy-like?”

Hermione hit his arm, a smile on her reddening face. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Not married then?”

“Nope!”

Damian Lazarev, the raven-haired, brown-eyed flirt, showed up on Oliver’s shoulder. “So does that mean I have a chance?”

“No. I still have a boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend or fiancé?” Damian lifted her hand to show Ron’s ring.

Hermione levelled him with a cold gaze. “Boyfriend. And if you touch me again without my permission, I’ll hex you.”

Damian immediately let go. Meanwhile, Oliver looked like Christmas had come early.

“You’re scary,” said Damian and then winked. “I like that.”

Pointedly ignoring him, Hermione turned to the rest of the party. Keon Donovan was there, already with a drink in hand courtesy of Ardy. Logan Castor was helping Thell with mixing drinks at the bar.

“Hermione,” called Avienne, “would you mind moving the logs a bit closer to the fire?”

“No problem, _Vivi_ ,” said Hermione with a wicked smile. Avienne poked her tongue out at her.

“A’ll help ye,” said Oliver and they made their way. “So am guessin’ Skeeter didnae like yer group’s amusing pass time?”

“Evidently.”

“Ye looked like ye were havin’ fun, though.”

Hermione chose not to answer. She simply crouched down and prepared to lift the log. When she looked at Oliver, he had questioning look on his face.

“What?”

“Wha’ are ye doin’?”

Hermione stood back up, blushing. “My magic’s kind of going haywire at the moment. It’s difficult for me to cast a spell.”

“Why?”

 _Emotional problems, stress, weird occurrences with dragons, and mysterious dragon eggs. Take your pick_. “There were some issues with my magical core as a result of trauma from the war.”

With a nod, Oliver left the subject alone and did not show her pity, for which Hermione was grateful. He, instead, simply levitated the logs and placed them around the bonfire.

“Hermione?”

The witch looked up and saw Michan and Memphis approaching. “Where’s Charlie? He should be here by now.”

Memphis shook his head. “Your dragon’s misbehaving and he won’t go to sleep.”

“Charlie said if you go over there and sing to him, he’ll be knocked right out and he can come here,” said Michan. “So… what’s it going to be? Make Charlie suffer a little or you go for a bit of karaoke?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m going, I’m going.”

“Great, thanks!” Memphis thrust the broom to her hands and ran to the bar with red-haired Waters.

A growl left Hermione as she suppressed her want to strangle them. Of course, that was the fastest route. And of course, now that they were here, they would not want to leave. But they both knew she could not fly!

“Ye ’right?”

She sighed. “I can’t fly a broom,” she mumbled.

Oliver smiled and Hermione prepared herself for teasing. However, he simply took the broom from her and hopped on it before extending a hand to her. “Come on.”

Hermione looked at his hand.

“Lass, a play Quidditch fer a living. Ye’ve watched mae fly at Hogwarts.”

“Watched you fall, too.”

“I highly doubt Flint is sending Derrick and Bole tae hit Bludgers at mae right noo.”

Relenting, Hermione accepted and sat in front of him. Oliver let the broom ascend slowly, when Avienne called out.

“Where are you two going?”

“Adherion needs me,” replied Hermione. “I’ll send Charlie down then we’ll be right back.”

The silver-haired witch had her hands on her hips. “I booked your time fair and square, Granger, you better be here. I don’t care how cute he is.”

“Thanks, Avienne!” Oliver called out.

“I meant the dragon!”

“She meant the dragon!”

“A knew tha’!”

***

Hermione’s hair smelled like strawberries and Oliver was trying his best not to be distracted. She pointed out certain crevices and clefts that dragons were living in and he nodded along, trying to focus on anything else but how great she smelled.

Oliver could not help but be surprised with this witch. He thought she would have gone to the Ministry and got a boring desk job, but no. First day on the job, she managed to move an immovable egg and almost fell off a cliff-side waterfall. Now, three months later, she looked at home in this crazy place where his brother worked and apparently, she was doing well.

Landing as gracefully as he could in front of a moss and vine covered structure protruding from the mountain, Oliver helped Hermione dismount and followed. She pressed her wand to a pad of numbers and a crevice appeared, ushering them in. Hermione waved hello to two wizards sitting at the office and having coffee, both of whom Oliver assumed were in the nightshift.

In truth, Oliver was a little nervous. Even as babies, dragons were dangerous beasts. Could this one breathe out fire already?

“Who’s Adherion, by the way? New dragon keeper?” he asked.

Hermione giggled and led him to the back of the huge cave. “No, Adherion’s an Antipodean Opaleye, about seven months now.”

“Hoo big is he?”

She looked back at him teasingly as they climbed up the steps to a smaller chamber. “Don’t tell me your scared.”

Oliver shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair. “Dangerous creatures, dragons. Breathes fire and tha’.”

“You’ll love him. He’s a sweetheart.”

She entered the chamber, which looked like a dug out cave that was magically lit, and he followed. The hard ground was burnt in a few places. Charlie was sitting on a log with a dragon, about three and a half feet tall, curled in his arms. Oliver could not help but be taken aback by the sight. Never had he known that dragons did that.

“I heard he was being moody again,” said Hermione.

Charlie nodded with a smile. “He just wants his song before he sleeps. Hey Oli.”

“Hey Charlie.”

The dragon looked up and straightened its body. Oliver froze. There was a very good possibility it may not like him being there.

“It’s okay, Adherion,” soothed Hermione. “This one’s Oliver. He’s a friend.”

“He may no’ think of mae like –”

The pearly white dragon looked straight at Oliver and multi-coloured eyes captivated him. There were no pupils, just these rainbow-like orbs that looked at him as though it could read him.

The Opaleye slowly disentangled itself from Charlie and began to crawl. Hermione knelt to the ground to receive him, but he went past her to go to Oliver.

The logical part of his brain was telling Oliver now was a good time to panic, but he simply could not bring himself to do so. Instead, he looked at Hermione for guidance. She was smiling at him.

“It’s okay. He’ll just say hello.”

Oliver knelt down and allowed the dragon to come to him. He took his claw with his hand, but the dragon kept coming until Oliver had to lean back a little just to see. “Hullo,” he said awkwardly.

The Opaleye slowly closed its eyes and touched his forehead to Oliver’s. Amused, Oliver leaned into the dragon as well. He could feel him huff his breath and found himself doing the same. And slowly, they parted, and Oliver opened his eyes to see multi-coloured ones staring right at him.

The world centred to a calm and Oliver was enraptured. He felt strong, like magic was thrumming in the air. He could feel the power of the young dragon before him and, for a second, he had an image of himself in his mind flying right alongside the Opaleye.

Blinking, the dragon turned back and made his way to Hermione. Oliver blinked, too. It was a strange sensation. When he looked up, Charlie and Hermione were standing side by side, looking at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“He’s never done that before,” said Hermione. “Well, to a dragon egg and Charlie’s patronus, yes, but never… I mean…”

Oliver stood up, confused. “Done what?”

The two dragon keepers looked at each other, seemingly communicating, then they both shrugged.

“He likes you,” said Charlie simply.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Now go and tell Avienne we’ll be right there,” said Hermione to the redhead.

Charlie nodded and went to leave, but paused as he shook Oliver’s hand. “Hermione, did you just get one of England’s finest Quidditch players and the Captain of the Puddlemere United to fly you here?”

A smile filled with mischief lit up Hermione’s face. “Jealous?”

Charlie simply walked away and Hermione laughed.

Going over to the log, Oliver watched the witch sway Adherion a little before setting him down.

“What shall it be tonight?” she softy asked the dragon.

The Opaleye circled the ground like a dog trying to find its place before breathing fire on the ground and settling down in the embers. Hermione carried another log closer to the dragon, pet his head and began to sing.

_Tale as old as time, true as it can be_

_Barely even friends, then somebody bends_

_Unexpectedly_

_Just a little change, small to say the least_

_Both a little scared, neither one prepared_

_Beauty and the Beast_

_Ever just the same, ever a surprise_

_Every as before, ever just as sure_

_As the sun will rise_

As Hermione continued her song, Oliver found his thoughts arguing with himself. Here was this woman… as strong as he ever thought possible, smarter than he could even comprehend, as mischievous and funny as he never expected… and she was with somebody else. He never thought he would befriend the girl four years his junior who always had her bushy-haired head buried in a book. He never thought he would fight beside her or that he would laugh and be surprised by her at a time when joy simply seemed snuffed out from their world. Yet he did. He never thought he’d realize it as he watched her be kissed by someone else either, but life was unfair like that.

With a sigh, Oliver contented himself to listening to her. There was no point quashing his feelings. Developing them was never his choice; he knew trying to put an end to it would only allow it to spiral all the more. So he chose to accept it along with the fact that she was happy with someone else, whom she loved and was best friends with since she was eleven. And he would move on and strive to be a good friend. One that she deserved, not an idiot with an agenda.

Hermione ran her hand over the Opaleye’s head, down his spiked neck and back before she looked up at Oliver. She smiled so innocently at him, his heart ached. Smiling back, he stood and headed out the cave. Moving on might just hurt a lot more than repressing his feelings, but he would do it… Hermione deserved a genuine friend.

When they returned back to the party, it was already in full swing. The lads were laughing and drinking, the barbecue smelling delicious and the music playing from one of the speakers the Waters' brothers must have rented out.

A ward was set around the party to stop the smell of food and the noise from disturbing the dragons. But the minute they crossed it, everything hit Oliver and he could not be happier. This would be a great distraction.

After they landed, the Scot was immediately found by his brother and hugged.

“Took ye so long?” Adrian asked.

“Hermione needed tae sing a song tae make a dragon fall asleep,” said Oliver with a laugh. “Never thought a’d ever say tha’ in mae life!”

Adrian and those around them laughed and Oliver took a drink for himself. Soon, they were called to the table where meat upon meat upon meat was laid out. Conversation flowed as they ate and Oliver sat himself between his brother and Keon.

“Is Quidditch season starting this year?” asked Michan.

“Aye,” replied Oliver. “We’re starting the season in November. Ministry ensured all teams were looked after, mental-health wise, tae ensure we’re coping.”

“How?” asked Hermione.

“There are mind healers that we’re mandated tae talk tae,” he replied and took a sip of his butterbeer. “New initiative by St. Mungo’s.”

“They’re like psychologists in the muggle world,” said Logan. “We get an hour a week trying to sort through trauma and all that.”

Hermione was nodding her approval. “That’s amazing. I never knew St. Mungo’s were offering that.”

“It’s a new thing,” said Logan. “They only started the program in August. Many of those in the wizarding world have never heard about it. We’re fortunate to be one of the few who got to try it out.”

As Hermione asked more about the program, Oliver focused on a different conversation with Michan about the league. Quidditch, he could do. He knew the sport inside out and sideways, so that was what he allowed to distract him.

Later on, when all the food had been surprisingly devoured, the group settled onto the logs in front of the fire. Thell brought out a guitar and began to play. They sang folk songs and wizarding songs alike, from the Bard to the Weird Sisters, whatever they fancied, and had a laugh.

“All right, all right, settle down,” said Avienne. “Tradition time. And you know what that means!”

“Story time!” the lads from the Reserve said in unison, raising their bottles.

Memphis showed the scar that went from under his jaw to his pectoral. “Got sliced, courtesy of a Death Eater at the Battle of Hogwarts,” he boasted.

“Psh! You call that a scar?” said Thell and pulled his shirt up to reveal a diagonal cut from his right pectoral to the left side of his abdomen. “Horntail’s horned tail.”

The dragon keepers applauded him.

“Good scar, good scar,” said Avienne. “Anyone got anything better?”

Oliver stood up and lifted his shirt, showing his left side. On his lower back, just below the end of his rib, was a seven-centimetre scar.

“That’s tiny!” said Raphael.

“It’s deep tho’,” said Oliver. “Punctured ma liver and everything. Got blasted aff when Potter blew up auld Voldy.” He was met with applause for that one. Chancing a glance at Hermione, he saw her looking at him in shock. He sent her a small smile before looking around the group once more.

Ardy showed off a burn on his left shoulder. “Almost got toasted by a Ridgeback,” he said proudly.

Oliver had to shake his head. Dragon keepers were strange people.

“A got wan!” said Keon and ripped his shirt open, making a few buttons fly off. He was definitely more than a little pissed. “Go’ this from a tomahawk a cousin o’ mine was throwin’ roond.” A ten-centimetre scar slanted under his right pectoral. “Good thing a got padding tae protect mae!” He patted his stomach with a laugh.

Adrian showed off a burn at the back of his left arm. “Courtesy af Lucile,” he said pointedly at Hermione.

“Excellent judge of character, that dragon,” she said innocently before drinking from her firewhiskey, earning a laugh.

“Who’s Lucile?” Oliver whispered to Raphael.

“Mama Opaleye,” he replied.

“Ahh…”

Michan showed off a burn on his calf – from a Horntail as well.

“Aphel? Anything?” asked Avienne.

“Nope!” the youngest Waters replied. “I take pride in not being scarred, thank you very much.”

“Booooo…”

“Shut up!”

“Hermione?” Avienne asked.

“Oh, no, baby, I thought you were the dragon whisperer,” said Damian.

“Is flirting a hobby to you or do you simply not know how to function in society?” Hermione retorted and earned a laugh.

Oliver went so much as to stand up and applauded her. Raphael, Charlie and Adrian copied him.

“Heartbroken, babe,” said Damian, clutching his chest. “Heartbroken.”

“Devastating,” deadpanned Hermione and sipped her drink before pulling up her left sleeve and showing them her scar.

Silence filled the place. Glistening in the firelight, the angry red letters shone above her skin spelling that horrid word. Oliver did not know whether to be sad or angry for her.

However, a wicked smile crossed Hermione’s face. “I survived Bellatrix Lestrange, bitches!”

And just like that, everyone cheered, hollered and applauded her.

“WE HAVE A WINNER!” Avienne said proudly and hugged the witch.

“HER-MIO-NE! HER-MIO-NE!”

“Damn it, babe, get a shorter name!”

“HER-MIO-NE! HER-MIO-NE!”

Hermione gave Damian the finger and Oliver laughed, far too entertained. But not too entertained not to notice another person looking at Hermione with softness in his eyes.

***

The day had finally arrived and there was no backing out now. Hermione sat outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, which had been reopened by his son, Philippe. As per usual, she was surrounded by her friends and sat between Harry and Ron. She tried to quash the uncomfortable feeling she had about that.

Last night, after she went home to the Burrow, Ron was waiting for her. He was going on and on about the fact that she was happy. He could feel it through the ring, he said, and wondered how could she be with her friends and yet not even spend a single time with him. As if the argument was not explanation enough.

“Hermione, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say or what else I can do to prove that,” he had said.

Truth be told, she could not shake the feeling of not being able to trust him anymore. Perhaps it was all the guilt she could feel from him. It was one thing to be guilty about what he said and did in France, but there was something else that was eating at him that she could not put a finger on.

“Accept me,” Hermione had replied and watched his eyes dart to her forearm. Watched as guilt changed to disdain for her covered skin. The curtain behind her burst into flames and though Hermione tried to conjure water, it simply did not come. She threw a pitcher of water at it instead.

“Why can’t you do magic?” Ron had asked behind her, not even bothering to move or to help. “Hermione, answer me.”

With a roll of her eyes and a sigh, she had said, “Because my magic is unstable at the moment.”

As predicted, his eyes had gone wide. “We should get you to St. Mungo’s! You should be checked on.”

“It’s not a problem, Ronald.”

“It’s your scars, isn’t it? It’s the dark magic affecting you, isn’t it?”

That had done it. They went for another bout of argument that neither of them heard Charlie come through the floo.

“What’s this?”

“Your brother’s being unreasonable,” spat out Hermione.

“Hermione’s magic is fluctuating again,” said Ron. “That dark magic is affecting her but she won’t hear it!”

“I won’t hear it because it’s the most stupid bloody thing ever!”

“All right, that’s enough!” Charlie had to step between them. “It’s late and everyone’s asleep. Ron, go to your room – no buts! Just go.”

The second youngest Weasley stomped his way towards the stairs, but stopped just so he could tell Hermione, “You need to get those scars checked out. There are potions being developed to get the Dark Mark out. Maybe it can take those away, too. Then you’ll be –”

“What? Finally acceptable to you?” Hermione had cut straight through to the issue.

Ron had simply shaken his head. “You need to get over yourself, Hermione.”

It took Charlie physically restraining her for Ron to stay alive. Only after she heard his door close had she sagged, exhausted. She cast a silencing spell, which miraculously her wand and her magic had allowed, before bursting into tears. They had been so happy in the campfire. She should have stayed at the Reserve and slept in Avienne’s couch.

Charlie had sat down beside her and, like always, wrapped his arm around her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hermione had shaken her head and just leaned on his shoulder.

She had not remembered falling asleep, but Hermione was briefly conscious of being carried up a flight of stairs.

“Where are you going?” she had heard Charlie ask quietly.

Before she could reply, she had heard Ron.

“I need to cool down. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s late –”

“Look, just bring her to her room and go.”

“Ron, we need to talk –”

“I’m done talking for the night.”

And Charlie was moving again, and sleep had claimed Hermione again.

At the moment, though, Hermione could not even get herself to fake being all right with Ron, so she focused on the fact that their meet-up was almost finished. Fred and George were putting on a show as per usual and Mandy was collecting her winnings from their bet. Hermione clapped along with everyone else and looked to the side.

It was that instinct of being watched again. Her eyes sought out the crowd until she saw a woman with dark brown hair staring at her, looking heartbroken. Hermione wondered why, when the woman’s eyes flitted to her and, seeing her looking, turned away and left. Then she realized the woman was not looking at her, but at someone behind her. Hermione turned and saw Ron with his hand to his cheek, slouched down on his chair, laughing at what Draco was saying. She looked around more, but could not see anyone else that the woman might be looking at.

Harry stood on the other side of her and caught her attention. “Coming?” he asked.

She nodded before she knew where they were going.

“I’ll see you at Grimmauld,” said Ron.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Kreacher’s already expecting you lot so go right ahead.”

The group moved as one to disperse. Fred and George went to their shop to check how things were going with Lee and Verity before flooing to Grimmauld where they would be helping Harry to renovate. The boys were going to the Leaky Cauldron to use the floo to get there. Meanwhile, Mandy was going to Pentagon Alley where she was taking Pansy on a tour of the Headquarters of the _Wizarding Herald_.

Harry took Hermione’s hand and walked with her down Diagon. They did not say anything for a while and Hermione got the feeling that he was trying to find the words. Apparently, he decided for the simpler option.

“Hermione, how are you?”

“Fine.”

“It’s just that you were very distracted today.”

If Harry noticed, everyone noticed. Hermione sighed. “Ron and I had another fight last night.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“The whole house knew.”

She sighed again. “I have to move out, Harry. I can’t stay there anymore. I don’t think I even trust him anymore.”

For a while neither of them talked and simply walked. Harry cast a muffliato around them.

“Are you two breaking up?” he asked quietly.

“I think at this point its inevitable.”

He nodded and pulled her into a shop so suddenly she did not even see the name. Going to the counter, Harry was recognized by the owner and immediately greeted.

“Here for your order, Mr. Potter?” said the old wizard.

“Yes, please, Mr. Norde.” He handed the man some galleons and the man in turn gave him two beautiful suede boxes. After giving his thanks, Harry and Hermione took their leave. They walked in silence for a while again and stopped at a café in Pentagon Alley. Harry ordered them hot chocolates before sliding the boxes to Hermione, who opened them.

On one box was a beautiful circular compact etched beautifully with dragon scale. On the other was similar compact etched with a snitch. Picking up the one with dragon scale etching, Hermione opened it and saw her own reflection.

Harry picked up the other and opened it. Suddenly, it was not her own reflection looking back at her, but Harry’s. He smiled.

“Two-way mirrors. Had it specially made. Cool huh?”

Hermione set hers down and he did the same. “Harry –”

He held up a hand. “With how things are between you two, I figured sooner or later, you would move away. With your job, and the fact that Charlie _lived_ in Romania for _years_ taking care of dragons, and the inevitability of those eggs you kept talking about hatching, I knew you’d have to live in the Reserve for research. And I’ve accepted that. I just don’t want to lose touch with my sister when it happens. So despite our different schedules, we’ll have these to use so we can still talk.”

Hermione hugged him fiercely with tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Whether it was from the thoughtful gift or the fact that he reminded her that she could possibly live in the Reserve, she did not know. Both, probably both. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Anytime, Hermione.”

That afternoon, Hermione was enjoying Molly’s company in the Burrow. With the boys over the Grimmauld and Arthur in his shed, the two women had time to bond over knitting like they did before Hermione took on a job. Molly had already started her Christmas jumpers and Hermione had decided to pick the hobby back up and tried to knit herself a decent scarf and a beanie. They were talking about possible menus for Christmas lunch and dinner when the floo burst into life and Mandy came out.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Weasley,” she greeted in a hurry. “Very sorry to drop in like this, but I really need to talk to Hermione.”

“Oh, yes, of course, dear,” said Molly. “I’ll make a cuppa and you two chat.” She left for the kitchen.

Before she had gone entirely, Mandy was already striding towards Hermione, a seriousness that Hermione has not seen across her face.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Hermione asked.

“No,” Mandy said gravely. “You’re my friend, Hermione, and I thought it best you get to know this from me before anything else.”

Hermione put her knitting aside. “Okay…”

From her coat pocket, Mandy pulled out a brown envelope and gave it to her. “These are from a photographer that a journalist of mine works with. According to her, the photographer has been taking these over a few months under Skeeter’s orders. She had not run any of the photographs yet, but my friend believes that she will do so tomorrow.”

Dread was spreading through Hermione.

“Skeeter is getting very desperate and so is the _Daily Prophet_. We’ve damaged their credibility and exposed their lack of integrity. But these photographs are damning enough on their own I don’t think anybody can just ignore them. With Skeeter’s words plastered on top of them, I think we’re in trouble.”

With shaking hands, Hermione opened the envelope and her breath caught. She looked at the photographs one after another and felt like her world’s axis had tilted.

Closing her eyes, Hermione tried to calm herself. She would not want another meltdown causing the dragons to go wild. No, she was her own person. And she had handled worse. She could handle this as well.

Opening her eyes, a new determination coursed through Hermione. She could be fierce. She could be brave. She could be as tough as any of the dragons. And this bastard was about to know just how much her anger could burn.


	16. The Parting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone,
> 
> Short and sweet today. Thank you for the love and the comments that keep me encouraged. Now, here is what you've all been waiting for. Enjoy!!!

The fireplace of Grimmauld burst into flames and out of it came a dangerously calm Hermione before flames erupted again, letting out a panicked Mandy.

Hermione strode through the kitchen without waiting and up towards the first floor. She found the twins, Dean and Seamus hard at work replacing the wooden floorboards in one of the rooms.

“Hey, Hermione! Welcome to Casa La Shite,” said George, arms wide open, gesturing to the mess around them.

Ignoring him, Hermione turned back around and went to another room. She found Ron working with Blaise, Draco and Charlie.

“Hey, mama dragon,” teased Blaise. “Came to help?”

Without pause, Hermione walked over to where Ron was and slapped him so hard he staggered back.

“Hermione!” Mandy screamed from the doorway. That got the attention of everyone in the house and they ran into the room.

Ron looked wide-eyed at Hermione. “What the bloody hell was –”

_SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!_

“Hermione!” Charlie held her back but she fought him off, her sole focus on Ronald. Still, Charlie did not let go.

“You insufferable bastard!” Hermione shouted at Ron. “You fucking coward! You pathetic excuse of a man!” Her voice broke and she hated it. “I trusted you! I trusted you and threw us down the drain!”

Ron had gone pale.

“Hermione, what’s going on?”

Harry’s voice broke something in Hermione and she turned and threw her arms around her brother. She felt Harry’s arms go around her even as his body tensed.

“What did you do?” Harry asked coldly. Hermione could only imagine the death glare he was giving Ron right now.

“Harry, I swear – it wasn’t – I didn’t…” Ron stuttered.

Hermione faced him, her venom back in force. “You filthy fucking liar! For months – _months_ – it had been happening! Before France, before that fucking disaster!”

“Mione, you don’t understand –”

“You’ve been going behind my back for months and you can’t even admit it!”

“It meant nothing!”

“You _fucked_ her!”

That dropped like a bomb inside the crowded room. She could hear the others muttering, the tension wounding tighter, but could not bring herself to care. Instead, Hermione took the photographs from her pocket and threw them one by one at Ron.

“Her – her – her – all of it – her!” She held up the one photograph that hurt her more than the others. In it, Ron was seen looking out of the window with the woman Hermione saw that morning standing in front of him. Both of them were smiling as they pointed at something beyond. Then he bent his head and kissed her shoulder.

Never once had Ron done that to her. And Hermione never knew that something she has not experienced could hurt her so much. He kissed this woman’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Yet every time he looked at Hermione’s shoulder, there was only disdain.

“Do you love her?” she asked slowly in a voice that shook under the torrents of her emotion.

“No,” Ron’s reply was instant. “I don’t. Hermione, you're the only –”

“When did you go to her?”

Ron shook his head, anguish in his features, but not speak.

“When, Ronald?”

Still he shook his head.

“Then why?” Nothing. “Answer me!”

“Answer her,” said Harry. His voice was tight and Hermione could feel anger radiating from him.

“Because…” Ron ran his hands through his hair. “Hermione, I never meant for it to happen.”

Hermione pointed at the photographs scattered at his feet. “None of those were taken at one time alone, Ron. Those were _months_ in between. With the same woman!” Several floorboard flew in his direction with a flick of her wand and Ron barely avoided them. They crashed on the wall, splintering, and the silence left in their wake was deafening.

“Why?” she asked, her voice hard. “WHY?”

“Because I felt useless,” said Ron and it all came pouring out. “I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t bloody stop it, any of it. And when you got confined to St. Mungo’s and your magic was going crazy, there was nothing I could do. I was powerless against what they’ve done to you. Hermione, it fucking hurt to see you that way!”

“So you decided to fuck someone else to help ease the pain, is that it?” Hermione had gone numb the moment that he mentioned St. Mungo’s. That had been in June. That had been soon after the war.

“No! Back then, it was a one-time –”

“Then how come it lasted four months?”

“I – I – I don’t –”

Then a cold realization came to Hermione, washing over her like a bucket of iced water. “Did you go to her the night you left me in France?”

She felt Harry and Charlie turn towards her at the revelation. No doubt everyone in the room did. Her eyes never left Ron, though, and she watched as he deflated. The same guilty expression she had seen over the last month took over his features. There was her answer.

“Why her?” she asked in a whisper.

Ron shook his head with a shrug. “I don’t –”

“Why. Her.”

When Harry talked about the incident with her months after, he said he had asked Ron about his answer then. And Ron swore to Harry, faced with the business end of his wand, that at the moment, his only thought was their conversation back in sixth year and that was the honest to Merlin truth, he said, on the pain of death.

But at this moment, Ron had shrugged and simply said, “She had nice skin?”

And it shattered Hermione. She closed her eyes, feeling her inadequacy, her insecurity, her being less than a woman. She did not even dare breathe for fear that she would come undone.

When she opened her eyes, it was to see realization cross Ron’s features and his eyes went wide. Before he could take it back or speak at all, she pulled off his ring.

“You and me, we’re done,” she whispered and let the ring fall to the floor. She turned around about to leave when Ron made his way to her.

“Mione, please, don’t do this –” He made the mistake of touching her and without second thought, she had pointed her wand against him in the most powerful Stunning Spell she had ever done non-verbally.

Ron was thrown to the wall and collapsed, unconscious.

Hermione calmly walked out the door.

No one dared stop her.

***

Charlie stood frozen in the room. The floorboards were being replaced, the paint was peeling, the curtains had been stripped and furniture disposed. However, it was Hermione’s confrontation with his brother that truly shook the place.

The moment she had gone, Harry had spoken with authority that Charlie had only ever heard during the war. “Someone get him to St. Mungo’s before I do anything stupid.”

Dean and Seamus were the ones to move. When none of the Weasleys even flinched, Neville helped them.

A part of Charlie knew he ought to be the bigger person and be the responsible adult that he was, but he looked down and saw a photograph near his feet. Picking it up, he saw Ron passionately kissing the other woman. He was wearing formal clothing, though without his suit jacket. His slicked-back hair was a mess and his shirt looked crumpled, hastily put on. This was not the three-piece suit he wore during her birthday, but the black suit combo he took with him to France. This was after he left Hermione.

Charlie wanted to punch something. Preferably Ron.

“Did any of you know?” came the deathly calm voice of Harry Potter.

“No,” Fred and George chorused.

Charlie shook his head and bent to pick up the other photographs.

“I found out today,” said Mandy. “The photographs were handed to me by one of my journalists. The photographer had given them to her to see if we’ll print it. He was trying to earn a few more galleons. He said Skeeter had them as well. She was the one who hired him to follow Ron.”

“How did she know, though?” asked Harry. “And who is the woman?”

“I don’t know how Skeeter knew, but I do know that woman’s a bookstore owner in _Rue de la Merveille_ , the French Diagon Alley.”

Charlie felt someone beside him and saw Blaise looking at the photographs in his hand. He handed it to the Slytherin. It was doing nothing to calm him down and he badly needed to think rationally before he flooed to St. Mungo’s and make his brother bleed.

“I know this woman,” said Blaise. “I saw her today in the Alley while we were at Fortescue’s.” He showed them a photograph of her laughing as Ron stood up behind her, kissing her neck.

Draco and Theo shook their heads. Whether they did not remember or they were disgusted by what they saw, Charlie could not tell.

“She was looking at Hermione or was it at Ron?” said Blaise. Looking at the photograph again, he added, “She looks like Hermione.”

“That’s just sick,” said Theo.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and massaged his eyelids, before pushing his glasses back on. Charlie was not sure he wanted to know what was going through the auror’s mind right now. Harry was as protective of Hermione as he was with Ginny. And if Ginny was ever cheated on, Charlie was not quite sure what he would do, but he was certain he’d make it hurt.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” said Draco, “but shouldn’t someone be following Hermione right now?”

“Not unless you want to die, mate,” said Fred.

“No, give her time to think,” said Harry. He turned to Charlie. “I don’t know where she would have gone, but we were already talking when we were in the Alley. Now more than ever, she needs to leave the Burrow. I’m not having Ron around her. Do you think she can stay at the Reserve?”

Charlie nodded his head. “Absolutely. I can talk to Caine, leave out details –”

“These will be published by Skeeter tomorrow,” said Mandy.

“Fuck.” Charlie ran his hand through his hair and huffed a breath. “I’ll talk to him. Make sure she’s secured a place.”

Harry nodded his consent. “Fred, George, can I buy some more of that Pamper Baskets you have? I’m worried the nightmares will be back for Hermione. Emotional strain causes them to return in full force.”

Fred and George were already nodding.

“Absolutely,” said Fred.

“Whatever she needs,” said George.

“One more thing.” Harry levelled everyone in the room with a steady gaze. “No pity. Hermione doesn’t need that. What she needs is support in any way you can give it. Take her out for coffee, make sure she eats something, or visit her from time to time. I want her to feel that she has a support system through this. That she isn’t alone.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“And no hurting Ron.”

“What? Why?”

“The little git deserves it!”

Harry glared at Fred and George. “We will deal with this as adults.” He looked at the Slytherins. “No vengeance. No revenge. No hexes, jinx, curses or spells. And no bloody dark artefacts that just so happened to be left in his way. No poisons.”

“That was one time,” said Draco with a roll of his eyes, “and we both know it was an accident.”

“Ignoring you,” said Harry. “Ron’s still our friend. He’s still your brother. As soon as he’s better, he and I will have a chat.”

“How come you get to be the one to talk to him?” asked Fred.

“If I ever hurt Ginny the way Ron’s hurt Hermione, would you let Blaise, Draco and Theo be the ones to talk to me?”

“No chance in seven hells,” said Fred.

“Exactly. Hermione’s my sister and I told him if he ever hurt her, he gets to deal with _me_. I plan to fulfil that promise.” He looked at the rest of them. “That’s us for today.” He left the room.

Charlie knew he should step up and be the mature adult in this scenario, but at the moment, all he could think about was being there when Harry finally got to talk to Ron.

“So…” said George. “Who gets to tell mum?”

“Not!” said Fred.

“You thought it, you do it,” said Charlie and made his way to the door.

“What are you going to do?” George asked.

“I’m finding Hermione a place to stay.” With that he left the room. He sent a patronus to Caine asking to meet with him at the Reserve before he flooed there.

Coming out of Central, Charlie practically ran up the stairs. He caught Caine at his office looking none too pleased.

“You better have a damn good reason for calling me out of my home in the middle of the afternoon during a weekend, Weasley,” Caine growled out.

“Sir, I’m asking for accommodations for Hermione. You know Skeeter has been targeting her. Tomorrow, certain things will come to light and Hermione needs a place to lie low. And when I tell you it’s bad, it’s bad. They would hound her.

“Besides, one of the eggs is close to hatching. If we have her here, she’ll learn more and she’ll be able to research more. She may also help us educate the others on her dragon connection –”

“We are not publicizing that,” Caine interrupted. “I’ve specifically told Hermione she is not to report that to Moon or to anyone out of the group I’ve put her in. This has no precedent. And if the Ministry gets to know about it, it could put her in danger and blotch any chance we have at further investigating it.”

“Okay,” said Charlie. “Well then, since the Fireball’s close to hatching and it’s already responding to her, wouldn’t it be more prudent if –”

Caine had already opened a drawer and pulled out two antique barrel keys with beautifully designed bows before Charlie could finish talking. “For you and for her. Both of you have a connection with the Opaleye –”

“Adherion.”

“Fine, Adherion. If he’s any indication, then it’s a possibility that you would have the same connection to the Fireball. Either way, I need you to help Granger. She has Arkady, but she trusts you.”

The thought of Ron’s stupidity possibly affecting that trust came into Charlie’s mind and he hastily blinked it out. He could not afford to think like that now.

“I’m giving you the ones by the south-eastern mountains. That’s also where the Waters brothers and Arkady are. I figured she’d at least know them.”

Charlie nodded and took the keys. “Thank you, sir.”

Caine looked thoughtful for a moment. “How bad is it really, Charlie?”

The redhead looked down feeling shame. “My brother cheated on Hermione, sir. With Skeeter building up the public on their fake engagement and their supposed honeymoon, this will be explosive.”

The older man breathed out heavily. “I’ll request for an immediate transfer for Granger so she would not have to report to Moon. I’ll have to buy out her contract in the DRCMC, but since she was only signed for six months and that’s almost done, it should be fine.”

Charlie was overwhelmed with relief. “Thank you. Thank you, sir.”

“Check on the houses now and tell Granger she can move in whenever. Now get the hell out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Charlie rushed down the stairs and took a broom from the supply closet before flying over to the south-eastern mountains. Avienne and Thell happened to be by the bonfire pit, roasting marshmallows when he landed in a less than graceful manner.

“Whoa, where’s the fire, Weasley?” Avienne teased.

“Do you know where these ones are?” Charlie asked instead, handing her the keys. As of the moment, he knew five of the six cottages were taken. Avienne had one. Thell and Michan shared, as did Ardy and Aphel. Adrian and Memphis occupied the other two.

“Damn, you got the lux view,” said Thell.

Charlie lifted a questioning brow at him and Thell pointed up to the three stone cottages above them. Charlie let out a whistle. Apparently, he and Hermione got the more private cottages and the ones with the best view.

“Why do you get two?” asked Avienne.

“One’s for Hermione.”

“She’s moving here? Why?” Her surprise and suspicion could not be missed.

Charlie sighed. “Have the dragons been okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“My brother did something stupid and the worst part is it’ll be all over the papers by tomorrow.”

This time, Thell let out a whistle. “How’s Hermione doing?”

“Slapped the hell out Ron and stunned him. In fact, she didn’t even cry.”

“How is she now?” asked Avienne.

Charlie moved his weight from one foot to the other. “We don’t actually know where she is at the –”

Avienne was on her feet. “You left her alone?!”

“It’s best to leave her alone –”

“Says who?”

“Harry freaking Potter.”

“Oh.” Avienne sat back down.

“I’ll go check on the accommodations,” said Charlie and walked to the winding path up the mountain to the right, leaving the two alone while they argued over burnt confectionary.

They apparently acquired the two cottages near each other; the one was close to the winding path and the other in the middle. Both were cosy and a decent sized. A small porch welcomed to the front door, which opened to a living room that had a fireplace, a small kitchen on the right, a bathroom and a terrace, which looked over the cottages beneath and the rest of the Reserve. The loft bedroom was in the A-line roof and had windows that overlooked a view that was breathtakingly beautiful both from the front and the back.

The only difference between the two cottages was the bay windows that were in the cottage in middle. Charlie thought Hermione would like that for her reading and decided she would have this one. He secured, locked and warded both cottages. Better safe than sorry, he thought and looked at the only remaining cottage. It was the one farthest from the winding path. It was bigger in that it actually had two floors and a loft. That one must have been reserved for families.

“How was it?” Thell asked when he came back.

The sun had well and truly set now and only the fire was lighting the surroundings. It was peaceful here, Charlie thought. Hermione would like it. “Good. It’s bigger than the ones here and the views are amazing.”

“Bastard,” said Thell and Charlie laughed. “Caine clearly has favourites.”

Avienne shrugged. “It’s the dragons who have favourites. Caine is just going along with it.” She turned to Charlie. “So, do you think she’ll move in tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. She’ll come when she’s ready. Tell the others no pity.”

Thell shook his head. “They’re not that stupid, don’t worry. She’s a capable girl. She’ll handle them if they get out of line.”

“That’s exactly what we don’t want, for her to handle them,” said Charlie. “I’ll see you two around.”

As he flew back to Central, Charlie could not help but think of the day’s sudden decline. He could not even imagine what Hermione was going through. And how were they to tell their parents about this? What was tomorrow going to bring?

At the beginning, he thought Ron and Hermione would be good for each other. But the past weeks showed how that had quickly turned. Then again, was the problem in their relationship really only involving the past weeks if Ron had been cheating on Hermione since June?

Charlie had noticed that Hermione and Harry seemed to fair well, but somehow, Ron always had an edge about him. Hermione had the dragons to help her move on from the war. Harry had auror training and work after that. Ron did too, but Charlie wondered how come he seemed to be left behind then realized it was Hermione’s scars that held him back. Ron could not move past them, could not forgive himself or their castor. Ron was still angry about the war and the things they have had to live with because of it.

Preparing himself, Charlie flooed home. The sound of his mother’s anger greeted him. From what he could hear, his father was trying to sooth her. When he went to the living room, it was to see Ron sitting on the couch pale-faced as Molly paced in front of him like an angry lioness. Arthur stood at one side with his arms akimbo, his face full of disappointment and the twins were leaning against the wall with their arms across their chests, smirking. Clearly this was prime entertainment. Meanwhile, what scared Charlie more than his mother’s temper was seeing Harry sitting adjacent to Ron with a totally stoic mask.

“I don’t know what could have gone through that thick head of yours!” Molly shouted. “She’d been your friend since you were kids! And you just thought to hurt her like it’s the most casual thing!”

“It wasn’t like that!” Ron tried to reason.

“If you tell me one more time,” said Harry in a dangerously calm manner as his hand ever tightened on his wand, “that it was because you felt powerless and helpless because she was put in hospital, I will end you.”

Arthur and Molly turned to him.

“In hospital?” asked Arthur. “What do you mean when Hermione was in hospital?”

“He started sleeping with the slag when Hermione was rushed to St. Mungo’s and her magical core was fluctuating,” Fred clarified for his parents. Charlie could still remember his younger brother punching the wall until he bled because of his anger in learning that Bellatrix tortured Hermione. Now it made sense, at least to Charlie, that Fred pushed Ron into the fire, so to speak. Fred wanted to hunt down the Death Eater to avenge Hermione. Her boyfriend at the time chose to drink and sleep with someone else.

“You WHAT?!” Molly would have hit Ron if Arthur did not restrain her. In her anger, tears ran down her livid face and she shook. “DID I NOT RAISE YOU RIGHT? DID I NOT TEACH YOU HOW TO TREAT PEOPLE RIGHT? MUCH LESS HERMIONE! Oh, that poor girl.” Her lips trembled at the thought. “What she must be going through? Oh and when this comes out tomorrow!” She picked up a tea towel and began to hit Ron with it. “I am _completely_ disgusted, Ronald Weasley! DID WE RAISE YOU TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS? HAS NOT YOUR FATHER TAUGHT YOU AND YOUR BROTHERS HOW TO TREAT A WOMAN WELL? WERE WE SUCH RUBBISH PARENTS TO HAVE RAISED A LYING, CHEATING – OH! To cheat on Hermione when she was in hospital! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED!” She threw the tea towel at him and plopped down on a seat, letting out a shaky breath.

“Breathe, Molly. Calm down, darling,” Arthur consoled his wife and patted her back. “Ron, go upstairs. You and I will have our chat.”

Ron got up and silently limped heavily to the staircase looking properly chastised and whole body hurting, though Charlie could not find it in himself to sympathize. He did raise his eyebrow at the twins’ direction wondering why Ron was limping and sore. They answered by jutting their chins at Harry.

“Harry, dear, do you know where Hermione is?” Molly asked.

“No,” said Harry, throwing up a silencing spell around the room. “I tried calling her through the mirror but she isn’t answering.”

“Tell her I got the accommodations,” said Charlie, coming in and sitting on the couch.

“What accommodations?” Molly asked, wiping her splotchy face.

“I’ve asked Charlie to get lodging for Hermione at the Reserve,” Harry answered and Charlie was grateful. His mother might not protest as much with him explaining. “Given what’s been happening and what will happen tomorrow, I thought it best that she get away for a while. And it is only fair for her to be the one to move.”

“Harry, you know we would never turn you and Hermione away,” said Arthur.

Harry gave him a small smile. “We know that and we’re grateful. But Hermione needs her space at the moment and she needs to be able to sort through things in her own time.”

“Wouldn’t it be rather lonely living alone?” Molly asked.

“She won’t be alone,” said Charlie. “Her place is close to our friends and it’s actually… it’s next to a cottage Caine’s offering me as well.”

Molly straightened. “You’re leaving, too?”

“We have an egg about to hatch, mum,” said Charlie gently, “and another not too far behind. Caine wants me to teach Hermione and mentor her about it. She’s doing her research and work is a good distraction for her right now, far from the eyes of those who’d want to bother her.”

“When can she move in?” asked Harry.

“I have the keys right now,” said Charlie.

Harry conjured his patronus. “Hermione, Charlie’s got you an accommodation at the Reserve. Please come to the Burrow so we can talk about it.” His patronus left.

“What are we going to do about tomorrow?” George asked.

Everyone sighed.

“Mum, Dad,” said Charlie, “better call in Bill and Fleur to help you strengthen the wards around here. Reporters, fanatics, hate mails – we don’t know what we’re going to get. It’s better that we’re prepared.”

“I’ll get on it tomorrow,” said Arthur. “I don’t want to overwhelm Hermione even more when she comes.”

Harry thanked him just as the floo sounded in the kitchen. A few seconds later, Hermione came into view with a neutral mask.

“Come here, darling, sit,” said Molly, wiping her own face again.

Hermione chose to sit beside Harry and he took her hand in his for support. “I take it you know?” she asked Molly and Arthur.

“Yes, dear, and I am very sorry,” said Molly. “I am absolutely ashamed for what that boy has done.”

“It’s not your doing,” said Hermione. “That was his choice. Unfortunately, we all get to share in the consequences.”

“I filed a case to the DMLE after I left Grimmauld,” said Harry. “I told them Skeeter’s an illegal animagus. Kingsley approved it and it is being processed in the Investigation Department now. I can’t stop the newspapers going out tomorrow, but I can promise you a trace has been put on Skeeter’s wand that only a handful of trusted people know about. When they’ve built up a case and she’s apprehended, we’ll sue.”

Hermione gave her brother a small smile and squeezed his hand.

“I spoke to Caine,” said Charlie. “He’s putting an immediate transfer for you from the DRCMC and he’s willing to buy out your contact so you’ll no longer be under obligation to go to the Ministry and report to Moon.” He fished out the barrel keys from his pocket. “He’s also given us accommodations at the south-eastern mountains. Move in whenever.” He handed Hermione her key.

Eyes watering at the gesture, she gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Here,” said George and handed her a small jar filled with small baskets. “We’ve shrunk Pamper Baskets for you. Anything you could want is right there.”

“Thanks, you guys,” she said. Then she looked at Molly and Arthur. “I really am grateful you’ve taken me in. I do love you both. But I will take Caine’s offer. It’s for the best right now.”

The couple nodded solemnly.

“You do what feels right by you, dear,” said Molly. “And if you ever need us, we’re right here for you.”

Hermione stood and embraced the both of them. Arthur escorted her upstairs to have his chat with Ron while she went to Ginny’s room and packed.

Charlie stood, too. “If I promise to visit more often than I did when I was in Romania, would you hate me less?” he asked his mother.

“Oh I don’t hate you, Charlie-bunny,” she said and embraced him, kissing his cheek. “I could never hate you. Not when you’re doing what you can to support Hermione the way you do.”

Charlie kissed her head. “Mum, I just want you to know you and dad did right by the rest of us.” He gestured to the twins as well, who nodded eagerly. “You are amazing parents and we’re fortunate to have you.”

This time, even Harry nodded his agreement.

“Well, that’s good to know.” Molly pursed her lips together in an attempt to hold back tears. “I’ll make us some tea.”

The moment she was gone, Charlie looked at Harry. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ve looked into magical constructors for Grimmauld,” he said. “I’m finding people I can trust. It being unplottable and all, it’s going to be difficult to bring people in. Nev said he’s got a trustworthy guy. The moment the house is done, I’m putting it under Fidelius.” Harry sighed. “For now, though, I’m staying at one of the top rooms. It’s the cleanest at the moment. Kreacher’s preparing it for me now.”

Charlie nodded and looked at the twins. “Come around here every once in a while, okay? Visit mum and dad, too.”

“Absolutely,” said George.

“Dare I even ask what we’re going to do for Christmas?” asked Fred and all of them groaned.

“Ginny’s coming home,” said Harry. “That’ll be something.”

Fred smiled, too. “Hopefully, she’ll punch Ron –”

“Since technically,” said George, “you never forbade her.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Fred interrupted.

“And in case you are planning on forbidding her,” he smiled wickedly, “please make sure George and I are there to snap a photograph of her punching you.”

Harry closed his mouth. That plan was out the window then.

Charlie shook his head and headed up the stairs. He could hear muffled shouting from Ron’s room and was glad. With a few waves of his wand, he packed all his clothes and shrunk his possessions before putting them into a duffle bag. He was double checking everything when he heard a knock and the bedroom door creaked open. Hermione stood in the threshold with nothing but her beaded bag in hand, making Charlie smile. “Packed already?”

She nodded and came into his room. Her destination was his bed where she picked up an old stuffed animal of a Chinese Fireball. “Cute. Aren’t you bringing him?”

Charlie blushed. He’d forgotten about that. “Mum only brought him out when I –”

“No, no need to explain,” she interrupted. Though she tried to be light, the heaviness in her features still stood out to Charlie. It made him want to curse his brother for undoing all her progress.

“I feel like I have to, though. I don’t sleep with him anymore.”

She nodded, sarcasm all over her face. “Does he have a name?”

Charlie shifted his weight. “Rory-bunny.”

Hermione stopped herself from laughing and simply left the room, Rory-bunny in hand.

“Hermione. Hermione, bring that back here!” Charlie picked up his bag and rushed after her down the stairs. He came down to the living room in time to hear her ask, “So who knows the story about Rory-bunny the dragon?”

“Nobody answer that!” Charlie pointed threateningly at the twins, who were drinking tea with Harry. But behind him, Molly laughed.

“Oh, Charlie-bunny used to bring him everywhere,” she said.

“Charlie-bunny?” asked Hermione.

“Muuuum… whyyy?”

Behind him, the twins started doing baby talk, cooing over him. “Oohh, Charlie-warlie wittle bitty bunny baby…”

Harry was sniggering behind his teacup.

“When he was a little boy,” said Molly, “he used to be fond of the rabbits in the garden. His first accidental magic was throwing a gnome away from one. He used to say he wanted to be a bunny growing up. He’d catch them and hug them so tightly like this.” She picked up a throw pillow and hugged it fiercely in a perfect imitation of him as a child.

The twins started the baby talk again and Charlie wanted to die.

“Cute,” said Hermione again, her face barely able to break a smile.

“Time to get going,” said Charlie and hugged his mother again.

Hermione did the same with everyone, lingering on Harry before pushing the stuffed dragon on Charlie’s chest. “In case you can’t sleep.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and placed the dragon down on the couch before going to the floo after her. After they immerged at Central, he flew the two of them to their cottages under the bright moonlight. Not much had to be said. When they landed, he pointed her to the cottage and bid her goodnight.

***

Hermione was overwhelmed of the goodness and support from her family and friends. She had gone to Pansy after leaving Grimmauld and upon learning what “that bloody weaselling git” had done she had listened to Hermione vent and assured her of her worth as a woman and as a person. She told the Gryffindor that it was not her fault that Ron did not have a healthy output after the war or that he _chose_ to cheat. She told her that this whole thing was not a reflection of Hermione, but rather of Ron and his character. Then Pansy entertained her with a few vengeful plans and daring escapades both towards Ron and Skeeter.

She was just wondering what to do for the night when she received Harry’s patronus. It was a good opportunity and distraction, Hermione told Pansy, who agreed. Nevertheless, the Slytherin told her to come to her at any time should she change her mind.

“Don’t you think it’s just your stupid Gryffindor traits convincing you of being the bigger man?” Pansy had asked her. “Have you even considered being petty and acting out a little retributive justice? Because it feels soooo gooooood.”

“I’ve tried that before,” Hermione had said. “Kept Skeeter in a jar for a few days back then.”

Of course Pansy was not confused. She knew of Skeeter being an animagus. “Good plan. Keep her for a year and put her in front of a dragon next time.”

Hermione had smiled then before bidding her farewell and flooing to the Burrow.

At the moment, Charlie had just landed them in front of two cottages. The night was already dark save for the moonlight that lit their way a little.

“That’s yours there,” he pointed at the middle cottage. “You going to be all right?”

Hermione nodded. “Thank you, Charlie,” she said, appreciating him moving out of his family’s home to support her. He did not have to, but still he chose to, if only she would not feel alone.

He simply tilted his head in acknowledgment, kissed her temple and bid her good night.

Climbing the three steps into the small porch, Hermione inserted her key to the door and came in. Magical lights and torches immediately came alive.

The place was beautiful. The walls were light grey and white stones, the place itself homey and a decent size, not too big, not too small. Hermione knew there was a lot of potential to make this space truly hers and, since she had an inkling she was not going to get much sleep anyway, decided to start decorating.

A grey tuxedo sectional sofa was sat sideways in the middle of the living room with white throw pillows. From her bag, Hermione pulled out a knitted white throw blanket and placed it over the couch before pulling out dark blue and dark grey ones and placing them neatly under the side table. With a wave of her wand, she made patterns appear on the plain white pillows, creating something that might catch the eye.

In front of the couch was a fireplace with a mantel. Hermione enlarged one of Fred and George’s Pamper Baskets and placed the candles there artfully as well as on the centre table. Behind the couch was a floor to ceiling shelf built into the wall. Opening her bag as wide as it could, Hermione carefully laid out her books by subject, leaving spaces for photographs she wanted to frame.

To the back was a bay window beside a glass door that presumably led to the terrace. The thick curtains that framed them were grey, too. She changed it into a gradient peach instead and transformed some throw pillows by the bay window to match. She decided she would need a rug and put one down for her shopping list.

To the right of the main door was the kitchen and separating it from the living room was a white marble breakfast bar with two wooden stools. She had a beautiful light wood kitchen with glass door cupboards and white marble counter-tops. A spider burner stove and a cooling cupboard were all ready for her along with some cooking pans, kitchen utensils, mugs, cups, cutlery and plates. However, Hermione decided she would drop by _Muggle Magical_ to buy an oven and baking paraphernalia. Add that to the list.

Between the bookshelves and the stairs to what Hermione presumed was the bedroom was the bathroom. It was most definitely bigger on the inside. One side was also magically turned into a floor to ceiling window and Hermione had a sunken bathtub sat atop three steps of stairs and a waterfall shower on the other side!

Immediately falling in love with the room, she arranged her bath bombs into the shelf built into the wall adjacent the tub and could not wait to use them.

The potions she had on hand as well the first aid kit went to the shelf behind the mirror and underneath the sink respectively. She fixed her toiletries where she wanted them and placed her towels in another, smaller shelf. She made a mental note to buy an additional shelf, towels and a hook for her robe.

Exiting, she turned to the stairs and walked up to her bedroom. The first thing she saw was that the back wall was made of magical glass and, in the morning, would no doubt show the view of the Reserve. She had a double-sized bed, a bedside table, a shelf, beside of which was a door that led to the closet, which was huge!

Smiling, Hermione jumped onto her bed. She had a feeling she would be happy here. That was until she remembered what would happen tomorrow. Making her way to the bathroom, she put one of her relaxing bath bombs into the tub and slid down.


	17. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beautiful people!!! Thank you everyone for the love. I hope you enjoyed the last chapter. Now, the fun begins. I couldn't wait for us to get to this point, but I'll let you read what I mean. A little Charmione to come as well. Enjoy!!!

Hermione woke up the next day feeling the drain of her emotional turmoil. Today was the day she faced the music. Today was the day Ron’s infidelity would come out. Today was the day Rita Skeeter would think she’d won. And that simply would not do.

Getting out of bed, grateful that she had at least slept until the sun was up, Hermione put the kettle on and searched for some tea. Finding one in the otherwise bare cupboards, she set out to make some when a knock came to her door. Opening it, she found Charlie on the other side holding two bags of groceries.

“Morning!” he greeted brightly. “I did a grocery run and got you some as well. Figured your pantry's just as empty as mine.”

“Thanks, come in, come in.”

He set the grocery down on the breakfast bar and looked around. “Already started decorating, I see.”

Hermione nodded as she unpacked his bounty. “A bit last night. I love the bathroom! It’s huge, isn’t it?”

Charlie laughed. “View’s beautiful, too.” He nodded out the terrace.

“Absolutely. I love the bay windows too. It’d be great for –”

“When you want to read, I know. It’s part of the reason I chose this place for you. My cottage doesn’t have it.”

Hermione’s gratefulness of him increased. “Thanks for your thoughtfulness. Seriously, Charlie, I don’t think I’d know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled charmingly at her as he sat down by the breakfast bar. “I highly doubt the brightest witch of her age is lacking in the planning department.”

She rolled her eyes. “How about I make you breakfast?”

“Like I would say ‘no’ to food.” He watched her busy herself in the kitchen. “What do you want to do today?”

“Shopping,” she replied and saw Charlie raise an eyebrow. “Come on, Charlie, you can’t expect me to just mope and stay in here. It is beautiful here; don’t get me wrong. But I am not going to cower especially not from Skeeter. I need to go to _Muggle Magical_ , buy a few things. If I’m going to move on, I need to start now.”

Charlie relented. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is. And this cooling cupboard is nice, but I think I want a refrigerator.”

“No electricity in the magical world, sweetheart.”

“There are magic allowing muggle items to invert magic into electricity without blowing up the items, Charlie-bunny.”

He pouted. “That was uncalled for.”

Hermione smiled and felt right about it. “Not when I get a reaction like that every time.”

Hermione and Charlie went to Muggle London at Hermione’s insistence and shopped. She bought what she needed, like additional bed sheets, pillowcases, duvets, towels, shelves and various kitchen utensils. She went grocery shopping for baking goods, buying red velvet and a lot of fruits for shakes and cheesecake.

Charlie was next to her, bouncing in excitement the moment she mentioned cake. He also requested on having sticky toffee pudding for tonight and actually danced when she approved.

They were on their way to the Leaky, shopping shrunk and safely stored in the beaded bag, when Hermione saw a small vintage dress boutique tucked away in a corner that reminded her of the ones she and the girls went to in Covent Garden. She thought about the dress she bought, how great it was on her, yet how quickly she was spurned after –

“Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

Charlie looked at where she was looking and, without second thought, pulled her towards the shop.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re going shopping.”

“We already did that.”

“If you can find baking powder in that store, sweetheart, I’ll eat my shoe.”

A bell rang indicating their entry and a woman looking like a pin-up model dressed in 50s style clothing came out the back to greet them. Her entire left arm was tattooed beautifully and it complemented her style. Her melodic voice welcomed them. “Hello, hello, how are we today?”

“Great,” said Charlie with a charming smile that made the woman blush. He pulled Hermione front and centre. “This is Hermione. She would _love_ some assistance.”

“Oh absolutely.” The woman took in her long sleeved attire underneath a hoodie that had seen better days, jeans and Chucks and looked at Hermione with a non-judgmental smile, for which she was grateful. “So, doll, what would you like?”

“Yeah, _doll_ ,” teased Charlie.

“For him to go away, for one,” said Hermione, tilting her head at Charlie, who chuckled. “But, um, I’d love to see your dresses.”

“Come this way then. Any particular style in mind?”

 _Damn it_. What was it that she got the last time? “Pencil skirts and A-line dresses.”

“Ooh, very nice. Yes, they would suit you beautifully. May I suggest circle skirts too? They flare out when you twirl.” She giggled and Hermione smiled, going along with her.

They stayed in the shop for close to an hour and Hermione bought an entirely new wardrobe including Capri pants and coats she could use at work, leggings, stockings and high socks for the winter.

While she was browsing, Hermione made the decision not to buy any long sleeves, going, at the very least, with three-quarter sleeves. The rest were halters, cap sleeves and sleeve less. She knew there were going to be days when she would actively want to hide and dig out her usual clothes, but if she truly wanted to move on, she figured going out of her comfort zone and learning to accept _and love_ her own body would be the first step.

“Thank you so much, Dianne,” said Hermione as she packed the last of her shopping in their custom bag.

“Pleasure is all mine, doll.” The blonde woman leaned in and whispered, “You’re lucky your man waits patiently for you while you get your shopping done. Mine always gets bored and just goes to the pub.” She straightened again and smiled at Charlie, “Please come again.”

“Absolutely,” Charlie said, taking the shopping bags from Hermione and opening the door for her.

Meanwhile, Hermione’s face was burning brighter than his hair.

The moment they turned a corner, Hermione shrunk all her shopping and put them in her beaded bag. She turned to Charlie and transfigured his looks then allowed him to transfigure hers. When they were satisfied, they apparated to the Leaky and made their way to Pentagon Alley, where _Muggle Magical_ awaited.

***

Everybody was talking about Skeeter’s article. Charlie covertly kept an eye on Hermione as they walked around _Muggle Magical_ , making sure that she was okay.

“– apparently been cheating on her for months!” a black-haired witched gossiped opposite them as they took a look at ovens. “Poor witch, and after all she’s been through.”

“I think she just doesn’t put out,” said the other brunette witch. “Come on, you’ve seen her. She’s a total prude!”

Charlie wanted to turn Hermione around and get her away from those women, but Hermione, who was at the moment, blonde, round-faced, button-nosed and blue-eyed, simply rolled her eyes.

“He’s played it smart, though, hasn’t he?” said the first witch. “One witch in England, another witch in France. How are they going to meet?”

“True. But to be perfectly honest, I would have thought she’d be the one to cheat. Have you seen her with Malfoy?”

“Granger and Malfoy? I think she has more of a chance with Zabini.”

“A _lemon_ has a chance with Zabini. I’m just saying, watch him swoop in now that she’s single. They’ve been paired by Skeeter before.”

“I thought they were all friends? My brother and my sister-in-law saw them all at the Leaky once. All laughing around and betting which one’s Skeeter’s targeting next.”

Hermione leaned in towards the two women. “If I were to make a guess,” she said in a nasal voice, “Skeeter’s getting desperate and simply transfigured a couple of actors to photograph.”

The two witches gasped. “Would she really do that?”

“Granger was in my year at Hogwarts,” said Hermione. “During the Triwizard Tournament, she and Skeeter had a massive fight about what Skeeter was writing. I mean the girl was a bookworm and with all that _hair_! Do you honestly think Potter and Krum would go after her? And now, look. Turns out, she and Potter are basically siblings. My husband saw them in the Leaky.” She patted Charlie’s chest. “Which means Skeeter was lying _all that time_! What kind of adult does that to a fifteen-year-old girl?”

The two witches began to mutter their agreement.

Hermione looked to the left and to the right before leaning in conspiringly. The two witches leaned in as well. “I think Skeeter’s losing it. She’s not selling any more books. She’s not pulling in readers from the _Prophet_. I mean seriously, if Granger and Weasley were married, it would have been announced at the _Herald_ , at least.”

“Oh yes, that’s right!” said one of the witches. “I heard one of their friends is running it, and Potter is actually a silent partner.”

“I heard that, too,” said her friend. “That’s what Potter and Nott were talking about in Three Broomsticks when Skeeter wrote that Nott Imperiused Potter.”

Hermione gave an airy laugh. “I was in Defence with Potter. He was actually the _only one_ who was able to resist that Unforgivable when Mad-eye Moody taught it to us. Bloody Gryffindor. But oh, well, saviour of the wizarding world and what not.”

The two witches laughed, too.

“Well, ladies, it was nice talking to you,” said Hermione. “But we have shopping to do. Ciao.” She took Charlie’s hand and dragged him by the toasters aisle where they broke into quiet laughter.

“That was brilliant!” whispered Charlie.

“Thank you,” said Hermione. “I’m hoping they’d pass it around to a group of their friends. Did you see the other three witches behind them, listening in?”

Charlie nodded. “You think it’d make a difference, though?”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is… I had fun.”

“Agreed. Now what else do you need from here?”

Charlie impulsively bought a record player when Hermione showed him how it functioned. And of course, he bought records too. Hermione bought quite a few things that he had to warn her about breaking the vault. Of course, her finances were none of his business, but he felt like a bad friend if he did not, at least, give her a reminder. Thankfully, she listened and as they stood in line to pay, Dean recognized them and gave them a massive discount.

The cheeky smile on Hermione’s face would forever be ingrained in Charlie’s memory.

Afterward, they stopped by Fortescue’s for ice cream.

“Look, Charlie,” said Hermione, a thoughtful expression on her face. “The Alley’s full again. People are beginning to trust again. Life moves forward.” She turned to him with a sad smile. “One day, I’ll be able to do that, too.”

Charlie put an arm around her and kissed her temple. “Definitely.”

***

By the time they got back to their homes, Hermione had received thirty letters from witches and wizards all over Britain and seven from _WitchWeekly_ , the _Daily Prophet_ and the new _It! Magazine_ , presumably asking for interviews. She burned them all.

Avienne came for a visit and Hermione served her tea and the sticky toffee pudding she had made. They talked about the newspaper article, which spanned three pages because of all the photographs Skeeter had put, before Hermione finally told her the truth. She told the silver-haired witch about her unstable magic, about the incident during Harry’s birthday, the shopping with the girls, what was supposed to be her perfect birthday getaway, and Ron walking out on her while she was mostly naked on his bed. She described to Avienne her vivid remembrance of Ron’s horrified expression at seeing her scar.

The silver-haired woman held her hand. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

Hermione felt as though it was, even as she tried to remind herself it was not. Thoughts of her inadequacy and insecurity kept creeping in.

“Honey,” said Avienne, “the man’s a pig. And I think even Charlie would agree to that. It’s _Ron_ who could not deal with your scars. It’s _Ron_ who could not accept them and, by extension, you. It’s _Ron_ who made you feel inadequate and lacking. It’s _Ron_ who showed disdain for those who hurt you and projected them on you. It’s _Ron_ who piled and blamed all his awful feelings out on you. This is _not_ your fault. _Ron_ was the one who cheated.”

“Why is it so hard to accept?”

“Because you still feel inferior. You haven’t totally accepted your body, so a part of your brain still thinks he’s right.”

“But I don’t know how to undo that.”

“You train yourself.”

“How?”

Avienne smiled in a sisterly manner and put an arm around her. “Start feeling good in your own skin. You still have that lingerie?”

Hesitantly, Hermione nodded.

“Wear them. Wear them around the house. Wear them under your work clothes. Wear them to make yourself feel sexy.”

“But –”

“Lingerie _empowers_ , honey. It makes you feel sexy and feminine. It isn’t just for your man, though there’s nothing wrong with that. But for now, it can be just for you.” She patted Hermione’s hand.

Hermione thought about it. It made sense and would definitely help boost her confidence. It could be her little secret. “I can try that. Oh, and by the way, I bought a whole new wardrobe, which I think you’d appreciate.”

“Beautiful! I can’t wait to see them on you!”

***

Charlie sat down in front of the fireplace with his tea that night, ready to wind down. The afternoon had been enjoyable. Hermione never ceased to amaze and surprise him.

He knew how hard she was striving. For Hermione, it was not only about moving on from tabloids that breach her privacy or from gossip. It was about being confident in her skin. He saw her confidence diminish after France, saw how much Ron’s words and shame and disdain for her scars affected her. And like after the war, her laughter and appetite were the first to go. He knew she was baking again, which he was encouraging, not just for his own agenda, but in hopes that she would _eat_. Earlier at Fortescue’s, she only managed to finish half of her sundae as the rest had melted. She was playing with her food again at breakfast, just to make her plate seem less stationary. The signs were all there. Harry was right; they had to watch her again.

A sigh left him. Body issues, that was something he could relate with after receiving his first few burns. He looked down at his tattooed left arm. The Fireball dragon that wound its way down his shoulder to his bicep blew smoke on his skin and he smiled. He got this after a bad burn. Though his skin was restored quickly after the incident, the lines and swirls from dragon fire and the trauma of the incident that caused it could not be removed. So he chose to put a tattoo over it. That was his way of dealing with it. Hopefully soon, Hermione would find her own way.

Finishing his tea, Charlie was about to call it a night when he heard a guitar being played. He knew it would be Hermione. Curiously, he opened his terrace door and peaked out. She was sitting with her back to him on the railing, looking up at the moon as she played.

_Turn down the lights_

_Turn down the bed_

_Turn down these voices inside my head_

_Lay down with me_

_Tell me no lies_

_Just hold me close, don’t patronize_

_Don’t patronize me_

_‘Cause I can’t make you love me if you don’t_

_You can’t make your heart feel something it won’t_

_Here in the dark, in these final hours_

_I will lay down my heart and I’ll feel the power_

_But you won’t, no you won’t_

_‘Cause I can’t make you love me, if you don’t_

Charlie’s heart went out to her as he silently closed his door. One day, he’d hear joy in her songs once more. One day, he’d dance with her again in the kitchen as they made breakfast and she’d laugh. One day.

***

The next morning, Hermione knew she had to face another day with the rumour mill turning. Today, she had research to do with Adrian all day, which meant she would be exposed in Central where other dragonologists who have surely read the _Prophet_ would see her. She had to put on a brave face and start with her new mission of self-love.

Pushing down the desire to crawl back into bed and hibernate until the buzz surrounding Ron’s infidelity had died down, Hermione showered and dressed for the day. Today, she decided to wear a red chequered off-shoulder swing dress with a matching red belt and heels. Her hair she braided into a crown and left the rest to fall down her back. She applied minimal make up but went for full red lips. Surprisingly, wearing something bold and daring did make her feel empowered. She would conquer today, not cower.

Pleased with herself, Hermione gathered her things and her beaded bag, placed them in her canvas messenger bag and left her home.

“Whoa…”

She turned to see Charlie at the bottom of her porch. “Good morning,” she said cheerily.

“Good morning to you, too. You look… great!” He smiled. “You sure you can ride a broom in that?”

“Let’s see.” Hermione feigned confidence as she went down the steps and rode side-saddled in front of him. She was absolutely grateful for the cold air that morning that could be used as an excuse for why she was almost the same shade as her dress.

After they dismounted, Hermione thanked Charlie and walked up the stairs of Central towards the library. People were looking at her, that she knew, but pretended not to notice. She was also well aware that her purple scar was on display, but did not let it deter her. She looked fabulous, damn it! She was not going to let her insecurities tell her otherwise anymore. She was Hermione Jean Granger, war heroine and the brightest witch of her age. They _should_ look!

Despite a little progress they have made researching anything about the coal-like egg, Hermione had learnt a lot. There were a few species that had long since been extinct that resembled the egg. She learnt of their behaviours, diets, habits and characteristics. She learnt ways to understand and differentiate between the noises they made. She learnt how their intelligence, understanding and empathy varied between their own kind, prey and humans.

After work, Hermione decided not to wait for Charlie. She changed clothing and went for a run instead. The chill was definitely in the air and she was caught in the rain just as she was almost close to home. No matter. After taking her shower, she decided to make dinner, when a melody started playing from her bag. Digging through it, she found the two-way mirror lighting up. A smile came over her face as she opened it and saw her brother’s emerald green eyes.

The two of them caught up with each other work-wise and article-backlash-wise. Harry absolutely loved how she twisted the rumour mill with those two witches at _Muggle Magical_. He said he’d tell the others to drop different stories and turn it around on Skeeter. Give her a taste of her own medicine.

After a while, they bid each other goodbye with Harry promising to call again the next afternoon.

Neither of them mentioned Ron.

***

Every day of the week, Hermione wore clothing that showed her scars. Charlie felt incredible pride for her, but he was still waiting. Every day, she put on a brave face and held her head high even as people talked with no regard for her being there, and the mail still came, with no regard for her privacy and right to her own life. Thursday, a howler came, saying she deserved what Ron had done. Because she’d probably slept with everyone in their circle of friends, too.

Adherion blew fire on that howler and kept doing so until it was nothing, not even ash, but a burn mark on the cafeteria table. Hermione simply scratched his head and walked away, her face a neutral mask.

Every night, Charlie heard her playing the guitar and singing. And it broke his heart every time. Still, he waited. She had yet to crack, yet to cry. But he knew in order for her to truly move forward, she would have to let it go, not supress it. So he supported her, and he waited.

***

Hermione established a routine. Every morning she ran. Then came home to shower and dress. She would go to work, come home, talk to Harry, shower, play the guitar and sleep. It was giving her a constant, which was great.

Two weeks had gone by. The buzz surrounding her and Ron had died down, at least at work. The _Daily Prophet_ publicised Ron’s debauchery daily. The drinking, the late night parties, the women… every day, Hermione had to see his antics sprawled across the papers. She tried not to believe in all of them; this was still Skeeter’s writing, after all. She mixed fiction with facts all the time. But Hermione had to admit, the photographs hurt. In some of them, she could see Ron kissing the woman’s shoulder. Those always got to her. She hated them the most.

The third Wednesday of the month, Hermione decided to try out one of her thigh-high socks. She paired it with denim shorts and a cute loose caramel-coloured sweater along with brown ankle boots. She would mostly be indoors at the Crèche today, anyway. Coming out of her home, she saw no Charlie so she made her way to his cottage. She was still at the porch when she heard him coughing inside. He did not sound well.

“Charlie,” she called as she knocked.

Charlie opened the door a little, still in his pyjamas and wrapped in a throw blanket. “Hey, Hermione,” he croaked. “I’m not feeling well today. I’ve asked Avienne to come pick you up.”

“Flu?” Hermione asked, though he looked like he was burning a fever, too.

“Yeah, it’ll go away.”

She touched his forehead and confirmed her theory. “Charlie, you’re burning up!”

“Hey, Hermione!” greeted Avienne behind her. “Ready to go?”

Hermione turned to her. “Charlie’s burning up a fever.”

Concern replaced the smile on the silver-haired witch’s face. “What? Why?” She climbed up the porch and crowded the door, too, touching his forehead. “I told you to go shower as soon as you got home. It was pissing down yesterday!”

“I did shower,” said Charlie, frowning at the two women. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. It’s just a cold.”

“Just a cold my arse,” said Avienne.

Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you think Adrian can cover me today?” she asked Avienne. “I don’t want to leave Charlie.”

“I’m fine, Hermione –”

“I can ask him. And I’ll tell Caine, too,” said Avienne.

“You don’t have to –”

“Thanks, Vivi,” said Hermione.

“You’re the only one I’ll allow to call me that,” said Avienne, narrowing her eyes playfully and pointing a finger at her. “Consider yourself special.”

“Will do,” said Hermione with a smile.

“Ladies, are you listening –”

“SHUT UP, CHARLIE!” the two women chorused.

“I’m staying with you for the day whether you like it or not,” said Hermione.

“And if you don’t allow her to stay, _I will_ ,” said Avienne.

Charlie was silent for a second. “Hermione will do.”

“Hmm, thanks for the enthusiasm,” said the brunette sarcastically.

“He’s happy on the inside,” said the silver-haired witch and kissed her cheek before pushing Charlie inside his own house. “Rest. Now.” She took off after and Hermione went inside.

Charlie’s cottage was similar to hers with small differences. As he had said before, he had no bay window, but French windows covered the entire wall with a French door to the terrace. His kitchen was a galley kitchen painted teal blue and he had a table pushed to the wall between the kitchen and the living room that seated three instead of a breakfast bar. What surprised Hermione, however, were the many carved wooden creatures that littered his shelves. There were wooden hippogriffs, sphinxes, unicorns, phoenixes, and of course, dragons. Near the fireplace was a stack of wood, but instead of pokers, chisels stood by their side.

Hermione smiled to herself. Charlie was a wood carver.

“I don’t know why you bothered,” grumbled the redhead. “I told you I’m fi –” he broke into a series of coughs.

“Uh-huh, I hear you,” said Hermione sarcastically. “But for some reason, I don’t believe you. So why don’t you go on up to bed?”

Having no strength to argue, Charlie obeyed and led the way up the stairs to his bedroom. It was similar to Hermione’s except for the flannels flung everywhere.

“Do you have anything that isn’t flannel?” she asked him.

“Eh.” Charlie plopped down his bed and Hermione tucked him in. She asked where his face towels were then headed to the bathroom downstairs for one. She wetted it with cold water first before returning and wiping his face and neck. Afterwards, Hermione left the towel to rest on his forehead. Meanwhile, Charlie could barely keep his eyes open and was asleep in less than a minute.

Hermione let him rest. She headed for the kitchen and decided to make Charlie some chicken soup, which she then left under stasis.

Suddenly free of anything to do, Hermione popped by her house and brought over the sketchbook she bought, made tea and sat on a comfortable armchair in front of the large window that overlooked the Reserve.

***

Charlie drifted in and out of consciousness. From time to time, he caught Hermione wiping his forehead and his face with a towel. But a few times, he woke up from a dream that had her in it and it would meld into reality. As a result, he was not sure if she was dancing in his room, or drawing near the window, or singing while using his hairbrush as a microphone while wearing his Quidditch jersey. He was somewhat sure it was real when she convinced him to sit up and eat, but was less certain if she actually wiped down his naked torso. Probably not.

What Charlie knew for certain, though, was at one point he opened his eyes and came face to face with her asleep on his bed with her arms around him. He remembered feeling happy then and swivelled around so he could put his arm around her, too.

Contentment, Charlie remembered thinking in his feverish state, was when Hermione snuggled closer.

***

Hermione woke up to a stormy Thursday morning feeling hot and wet. Then she became aware of the fact that she was being embraced by Charlie, who was sweating through his shirt again, but shivering at the same time. Hastily, she grabbed the bowl she left on the bedside table and wet the towel before squeezing it out. She carefully wiped his unshaven face and vanished his shirt before washing his torso. The dragon on his bicep lavished at the attention and Hermione shook her head in amusement.

Waking him gently, Hermione coaxed him into drinking potions that the mediwitch Avienne called over from the Medic Bay had given to her last night. They had not been very effective, in that he still had fever, but she gave them to him nonetheless. Afterward, she put him in a shirt.

“Herm… Hermia… my… Mia…” Charlie mumbled.

“Hey Charlie,” she said softly.

His eyes fluttered open and shut, as though he was fighting to stay conscious. “Will – sing… You sing…” he sighed.

“You want me to sing?”

“Hmm… Here.” He patted the side of his bed with a heavy hand.

Hermione climbed back to bed with him and wiped down his long and tangled hair.

_Somewhere over the rainbow_

_Way up high_

_There’s a land that I heard of_

_Once in a lullaby_

_Somewhere over the rainbow_

_Skies are blue_

_And the dreams that you dare to dream_

_Really do come true_

Beside her, Charlie had a smile as he drifted off, yet again, to sleep. Meanwhile, downstairs, Hermione heard a knock. She slowly got off the bed before hastily going downstairs. It was Avienne.

“How is he?”

Hermione sighed. “Not good. Still not good. I’m worried about him, Vi. Usually fevers die down overnight. His didn’t. He’s still the same as he was yesterday. His body might not be able to take it.”

“What did the Healer say last night?”

“He said Charlie should be getting better by the morning. It’s morning! And none of the potions he gave worked.”

Avienne sighed too. “I’ll call for the Healer to come again. I’ve talked to Caine already; he said you can stay on here, but tomorrow you’re back to work.”

Hermione nodded.

Avienne gave her a brief hug. “It’s Charlie, honey. He’ll be fine. He’s strong.”

Hermione nodded again, but her worry still had not left her. Bidding Avienne goodbye, she went back upstairs and sat on the armchair by the window. Charlie had always been there for her. He had supported her, calmed her, given her advice, mentored her and been a great friend. She could talk to him about everything. He was the one who took care of everybody. He was always strong. Now, he was sick and she did not know what else to do to make him feel better.

“Her… Mia… Mia…” he mumbled and Hermione immediately got up and sat by him.

“I’m here. I’m here, Charlie.”

He opened his eyes a bit. “Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” she replied just as softly.

He frowned. “You crying? Who made you cry?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not crying.”

“Hmm… eyes red.” He blinked slowly.

“Just worried about you, Charlie-bunny.”

He groaned. “Bunny… You’re a bunny. Cute little bunny…” he patted her knee and then looked down at it. “I like this.” He pointed at her thigh-high socks. “Look good, Mia… my jersey.” He smiled lazily.

Hermione smiled, too. “I don’t think you can pull it off, bunny.”

“No, you.” He breathed deeply and turned his head away, asleep once more.

With a smile, Hermione shook her head and decided to make him some broth instead.

***

“Lass, ye’ve got tae stop doin’ tha’,” said Adrian, exasperated, and Hermione could not fully blame him. Ever since she left Charlie that morning, she had been worrying about him. And if she worried silently and kept it to herself, it probably would not be so much of a problem. But as it were, she was bouncing the tip of her stem stylus over her journal, fidgeting in her seat and constantly making small noises with her mouth. To be perfectly honest, she was wondering why Adrian has not thrown her out of the library yet.

“Sorry,” she said for the umpteenth time. “I’m just –”

“Worried aboot Charlie, a knoo,” said Adrian. “But yer worryin’ isnae gaunnae help ‘im get better. He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine. Besides, Raphael’s got him covered. Noo, hoo aboot ye go for yer lunch, eh? Have somethin’ tae dae.”

Hermione sighed and nodded before collecting her things. However, once she had made her way down, all thoughts of Charlie somewhat flew out of her mind as she took in the person standing in front of Central’s main doors. “Harry?”

Jet-black hair tied up in a messy bun turned around and the emerald eyes of her brother widened at the sight of her. “Wow, Hermione, you look – I mean that’s quite – um –”

“I hope the ends of these sentences are good,” she teased and kissed his cheek. Today, she had decided to go for black denim high-waisted Capri pants and a black-and-white striped halter with bold red heels. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d have lunch with you.” He took her bag and shouldered it.

She narrowed her eyes. “Pity lunch?”

“I want to live to see Ginny come home for Christmas, so no, just regular lunch, thanks. How’s Charlie? ”

Hermione decided to let it slide and wound her arm around her brother’s as they went to the cafeteria. “Still sick. I really am getting quite worried. He doesn’t seem to get any better and the potions are not helping one bit.”

“What did the Healers say?”

“They say it’ll pass and not to worry.” She pouted.

“Then trust them.”

Hermione frowned further but decided to change the subject as they got to the buffet. “How’s work?”

“At the moment, boring and full of paperwork.” Harry passed her a tray and a plate and made her go first. “Just so you know, Kingsley’s called a meeting with the Wizengamot to abolish prejudiced laws against lycanthropes.”

A smile broke across Hermione’s features. “That’s wonderful!”

“It is. It’s also putting a huge target on his back.”

Hermione put little bits of food onto her plate. “Kingsley knows what he’s doing. He’s done a fine job cleaning the Ministry up and rounding all the Voldemort supporters so far. If he’s doing this, he’s got my support.”

“And mine and all those we know, but it’ll be a long and winding road. You can’t just abolish decades of prejudice overnight. Is that all you’re going to eat?”

“Yes, and no, that’s not what I’m saying.” They made their way to a table beside the glass wall that wrapped around the cafeteria. “I’m just saying once he succeeds, and I know he will, then definitely, it’ll be a huge step forward for Britain.”

While they ate, the conversation turned to little Teddy Lupin. Andromeda Tonks had visited Molly with the little lad and Harry spent time with his godson. He told Hermione he almost cried when the little metamorphmagus changed his turquois hair to match his jet-black. When he was feeding Teddy and the little baby was almost asleep, his hair turned sandy blonde, just like Remus and Harry choked up a bit again.

“I want to be a constant in his life, Hermione,” shared Harry. “I know what it’s like to grow up without parents, so I want to do right by him, you know? At least we can trust Andromeda to take good care of him.”

Hermione squeezed his hand. “I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful godfather, Harry.”

“Thanks…”

Every now and again, Harry would keep glancing out of the window. Hermione knew he was hoping to see a dragon fly by, so she pointed over the western mountains where a silhouette of a wyvern could be seen.

“That’s the Horntail.”

“No way.”

“Uh-huh. I pass mum and whelp every day on the way to the Crèche.”

“Your job is so cool. How’s your baby dragon, by the way?”

“He’s good. Growing up so fast. He’s seven months now and steadily growing. By next month, I won’t be able to carry him around. Even now, it’s a workout and I can’t hold him for long.”

Harry laughed just as a parchment crane landed in front of Hermione. Then he raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

Hermione tapped it with her wand and it unfurled to reveal a poem written inside it.

“Is someone asking you out?” asked Harry loud enough to be heard by those paying attention, which was the whole cafeteria.

“Yes, the poem’s nice.”

Harry pointed his wand at it. “ _Incendio_.”

“Harry!”

“What?” he asked innocently.

Hermione shook her head. “You’re the most over protective brother ever.”

“I’m sorry, have you not met Charlie? Or the twins for that matter?”

A giggle left Hermione when a zooming redhead flew right past them outside before turning sharply, _in mid-air_ , and coming back to the direction of Central.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no, you don’t!” Hermione was immediately on her feet and striding towards the main doors, but the dragon keeper ran in, looking around wildly until his eyes landed on Hermione.

“Her-mia–”

“You have a _fever_ , Charles Weasley! You go back right now or –”

“We have to go. Crèche. It’s the Fireball.” He took her hand and ran outside.

Hermione did not even get the chance to bid Harry goodbye before she was sat in front of the redhead on a Firebolt and speeding through the air towards the Crèche. Anger gone, her stomach was all in butterflies and her heart was aflutter. She was about to witness the Fireball hatching. Given, she had seen Norbert (or Norberta as it turned out) hatch, but this was different. This egg was _connected_ with her. It knew her voice. It responded to her songs, to her. Oh, Hermione did not think she had ever been so giddy in her life!


	18. Dealing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I just want to thank you all for following this story. I never expected to get so much love and kudos and comments and everything as this is my very first fanfic and I haven't written anything in more or less eight years. But, I'm amazed at the support. Thanks so much.
> 
> Also, if I should have something in the Tags that isn't there yet, please let me know. I'm learning as I go and if I'd miss anything, please put it down below and I'll make sure to add it.
> 
> More notes at the end, but as for now, we have a dragon hatching! Yay!!! Enjoy!

Charlie had watched several dragons hatch, but still, he was nervous. He heard Raphael get the floo call from Michan and knew he had to go. Raphael would not let him though, so he may have used a Full Body-Bind on him a little bit. Still, he had no regrets. He knew there was something different about this hatching. He knew it was special. He could feel it in his bones. Fever or not, he was going to witness it.

“Did we miss it? Has it hatched?” Hermione asked as she and Charlie burst into the Incubation Ward. Three dragon keepers paced around the incubator which had been opened so the flame coloured egg sat openly on the coals in what looked like a table instead of an oven.

“No, it hasn’t – whoa, honey,” Avienne looked at Hermione with a wide, approving grin. “I love it!”

“Thank you.” Hermione blushed and bent down to see cracks almost surrounding the top of the flame-coloured egg.

Charlie stood next to her, watching the egg closely. His stomach was in knots and he could feel the heat affecting him, but he was not leaving. So instead, he turned to Hermione to distract himself. “Dragons vary in their hatching,” he said to her. “Some take hours, others only minutes.”

Hermione nodded. “The Ridgeback Hagrid had during our first year started hatching at dawn but didn’t actually fully hatch until four in the afternoon.”

Charlie turned to her. “You saw her hatch?”

She nodded.

“Was there a connection?” asked Avienne behind them.

Hermione shook her head. “Not even a little bit.”

“Hmm, strange.”

The Fireball egg wiggled about and another crack appeared near the middle.

“How long does it take for Fireballs?” Hermione asked.

“A few minutes to an hour and a half at most,” Charlie smiled. “They’re impatient little things.”

Half an hour in and several more cracks appeared, surrounding the entirety of the Fireball egg first, before the tiny dragon’s foot kicked out the shell. Then an arm poked through. Then the entire egg cracked open and the top of the shell fell over its head.

“Oh Merlin, it’s adorable,” he heard Hermione whisper, though he himself could not tear his eyes away from the little thing.

The dragon chick sneezed out grey smoke and shook off the eggshell. Charlie heard he others chuckle, but there was something primal in him that could not look away. When blue eyes met pearl white, Charlie inhaled a sharp breath as something clicked within him. That moment, the fever left. The dragon chick blinked its protuberant eyes at him, held by his gaze as well, and let out a small screech. The tiny thing crawled its way it him, magnetized, it seemed and Charlie ran the back of his fingers to the chick’s smooth scarlet scales. A fringe of golden spikes surrounded its snouted face. The tiny chick closed its eyes and nuzzled into his hand.

“Charlie?” Hermione called and he felt her hand touch his face then his forehead. “Your fever’s gone.”

“What?” A moment later Avienne was on his other side.

The redhead did not care at the moment. “Do we have his milk?” he asked.

“How do you know it’s a he?” asked Michan, handing him the makeshift bottle.

“I don’t know… I just – I just do.” Charlie extended the bottle to the chick, which immediately sucked on it.

“He’s responding to you more than Hermione,” observed Avienne.

“He hasn’t really seen Hermione,” said Charlie and looked at the brunette. “Come, hold his bottle.”

Hermione did as she was told. And as she took Charlie’s place, he watched as her features softened, practically melting. He would have to tease her for all those times she thought Hagrid mad for calling dragons cute. When the dragon chick saw her, he stopped suckling just so he could let out a loud purring sound. The little thing was already in love with her. He then crawled to the edge of the incubator before jumping right at her.

Charlie was far too endeared watching the two of them interact that his instincts were a little late. But it was Michan, Memphis and Avienne’s short and loud exclamations that snapped him out of it.

Hermione cradled the frightened dragon onto her chest and stood to take a few steps away from them. The chick let out a hissing growl, a sort of whimpering in her chest. He was scared. And by the look on Hermione’s face, she was not pleased with them.

“What is wrong with you?” she hissed at the three. “You’ve given me a fright, not to mention scared the life out of him!”

But the three could only stare wide-eyed at the chick and the brunette. So it was Charlie who spoke.

“You’re holding him, sweetheart,” he said, cautiously inching towards her, in case she suddenly dropped the chick.

“Yeah, so?” Hermione responded.

“Honey, he’s been in the fire,” Avienne pointed out. “Aren’t you hurt?”

Hermione blinked a few times before looking down at the chick and consoling him for a bit before acknowledging them. “No, I’m not.”

Avienne held out her hand carefully. “May I?”

Hermione nodded and cradled the chick’s head so he would not see Avienne trying to touch him. When the silver-haired woman did, she could only pet him for a bit before withdrawing her hand with a hiss.

“He’s hot, coal hot,” she said.

Charlie looked closely. Hermione’s skin was not sweltering, let alone turning red. Memphis ran a hand on the tiny dragon’s back all the way down his tail and he, too, hissed.

“Especially hot on the tail,” said Memphis and pointed where Hermione’s arm was tucked under.

A crease deepened in Hermione’s forehead. “I don’t feel anything.”

Charlie ran a finger from her elbow to her wrist. “Did you feel that?”

She nodded.

“So it’s just heat you’re immune to, then.”

“What about you, aren’t you immune, too? You touched his face earlier.”

“I felt the coals’ heat.”

“So did I. It just didn’t hurt.”

Realizing what she was getting to, Charlie extended his hand. Almost as if sensing him, the newborn dragon turned around and sought to nuzzle his hand. He touched his face first and then let his hand run down his body all the way to his tail. Charlie felt each scale and each spike with warmth but no pain.

A smile crossed Hermione’s features and she slowly passed the newborn onto him and Charlie resumed feeding him.

“Okay, this is weird,” said Michan.

“No, this is opportunity, my friend,” said Memphis. “Looks like we just found the people covering the newborn’s schedule. Congratulations, you two. You’ve just become parents.” He chuckled and made his way out of the ward. Michan followed him, chortling, too. Avienne stayed, looking on with curiosity.

“This has to be documented,” she said, getting Hermione’s attention by touching her arm. “Mostly, when a dragon has hatched, we handle them using dragon-hide gloves and protective gear. They have no control of their bursts of fire and being on the coals is a huge help to them to emulate a mother’s warmth. So it usually would be a very trying time for the dragon keeper involved, being around heat all the time. This –” she motioned to her and Charlie “-is entirely new and can present us with amazing insights on different effects on newborns. If you and Charlie do not have to flinch in the fire, it opens opportunities for us to do research.” She paused thoughtfully. “How much heat do you think you can handle?”

Charlie looked at Hermione and watched as the gears in her head turned. When she eyed the egg in the second incubator, he began to protest. “No, no, no, no. Hermione, don’t you even –”

“It’s an experiment, Charlie,” she countered.

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Ice pack. I’m sure they’ll have something for burns in the Medic Bay.”

Charlie wanted to pull his hair out but the newborn in his arms began to squall.

“I don’t think the chick likes it when you two fight,” said Avienne.

“We’re not fighting, little one,” said Hermione soothingly, running her finger a couple of times on the Fireball’s head. “Drink your milk.”

The newborn began to suckle again.

“This is fantastic,” said Avienne in awe.

Meanwhile, Hermione looked at Charlie. The softness in her eyes soothed the edges of his concern and irritation. “I’ll hover my hand on the egg, see if it’s hot.”

“It has not been off the fire for _months_.”

“Neither has the Fireball, but here we are.” She nodded to his arms.

Charlie sighed. _Stubborn witch_. “Fine, but be careful. Avienne, assist her, please.”

Hermione gave him a small smile and ran her finger down the Fireball’s tail, making him purr, before moving to the second incubator. Avienne readily backed her up, wand poised.

At first, the brunette hovered her hand in front of the furnace.

“What do you feel?” asked Avienne.

“Warmth,” said Hermione. Slowly, she inched her way closer. “The heat is more intense now, but tolerable still.” She pushed her hand so it is now hovering inside the furnace.

Avienne gasped.

Hermione looked behind her. “Hot, but not painful.”

Cautiously, Avienne held her hand up to the furnace and slowly inched her way closer. By the time she got near the mouth of the furnace, she had to pull away and cast a cooling charm on her hand.

Hermione, too, pulled away and they lay their hands side by side. Avienne’s was red; Hermione’s was pink. The two women looked at each other in silent communication. Meanwhile, the Fireball in Charlie’s arms was beginning to fall asleep. He swayed a little, hoping to speed up the process before the two women did something truly stupid.

With a nod, Hermione stepped closer to the incubator once again and this time, without hesitation, touched the egg. Charlie and Avienne held their breaths. There was no flinching, no exclamations, but relief flooded Hermione’s previously tensed shoulders and she ran her fingers through the egg like she was petting it. After a moment, she withdrew with a smile on her face.

“How do you feel?” asked Avienne, awe on her face.

“Fine,” said Hermione, equally astonished. “This has never happened before.”

“If you’ve got the common sense not to touch fire, how will you ever know?”

“I got burned baking,” Hermione deadpanned.

“Oh. Yeah, that would do it.” Avienne scratched her head. “So this is a new progression. When do you think it started?”

This time, Charlie replied. “Today,” he said, looking down at the now sleeping dragon in his arms. “Right now, I’d say.” He looked up at the witches. “My fever’s gone. It left the moment my eyes met his. Avienne, I think there’s something well beyond us at play here. And it changed before Hermione came to the Reserve.” He nodded at the egg inside the incubator. “It changed when that egg called out at the Wood Estate.”

“Called out?” the two witches asked.

Charlie slowly laid the Fireball back into the incubator, careful not to set his clothes on fire from the live coals. The little newborn curled around itself, tucking its tail under as it got comfortable. A smile formed in Charlie’s lips before he nodded his head outside the Ward and the two witches followed him out.

“Oliver called Adrian about an earthquake in the Wood Estate,” he told them. “Oli said when he went to check at the edge of the cliff, a waterfall has appeared that looked like fire.”

Hermione inhaled sharply.

“And he heard a dragon under the cliff. The next day, another earthquake happened while Adrian and I were there and we heard a dragon’s roar under the earth. But before we could investigate, Caine called us here because the dragons were blowing fire into the skies.” He looked meaningfully at Hermione. “The first time the dragon’s call was heard was the night you passed out, Hermione.”

The brunette leaned against the cave wall to steady herself.

“What exactly happened?” asked Avienne.

Charlie told her that out of nowhere, Hermione collapsed, blowing the lights out of the entire house in the process. He told her of the convulsion, the trip to St. Mungo’s, and the pulsing and fluctuating magical core that they had attributed to Hermione’s torture during the war.

“Here’s the thing, though,” said Charlie, kneeling down so he was eye-level to the now sitting Hermione. Avienne knelt beside them. “The healer said Hermione seemed to be sharing her life force with something powerful that was protecting her from responding to the healers’ spells. They had to use six Stunners to contain her.”

“Six Stunners?” asked Avienne, and then it clicked. “Six Stunners to contain a dragon, too.”

“What does that mean?” asked Hermione.

Charlie could tell she was beginning to panic, so he ran his hand up and down her arm gently. “Healer Lance said that when you were grieving and your magic was pulsating, it was because it was reaching out towards _something_. And it was fluctuating because there was nothing to stable it at that moment.”

“But what has that to do with you?” asked Hermione. “You and I share the bond with Adherion and now with the Fireball, too. And you can touch the newborn from the fire _and_ you laid him down on the furnace without sweltering.”

Charlie checked his forearms and his hands. She was right. A few days before, Adherion blew fire on a log in the pit that happened to be beside Charlie, and he got sweltering blisters from the near proximity. But now… He looked at Avienne and the purple-eyed witch had her eyes staring intensely on the ground in thought. “Avienne? Thoughts?”

Purple eyes met sky blue. “Nothing solid. But I think we might have to visit the Wood Estate some time.”

Hermione was nodding her head vigorously.

“When?” asked Charlie.

“Preferably after that egg hatches.” Avienne nodded her head to the coal-like egg. “I want to see where you took it from and how the dragon will react to the environment.”

Hermione nodded again.

Avienne touched her arm then left the two of them alone.

Charlie sat down beside Hermione and placed an arm around her. “You okay?”

Another nod. “Just… overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… But it’ll be all right.”

She looked at him with beautiful brown eyes. Charlie had never noticed before, but her chocolate brown eyes had flecks of amber in them. “I dreamt about it… The night you took me to St. Mungo’s, I dreamt about the falls made of fire. And dragons. I dreamt of dragons. It’s what made me take this job.” She smiled and leaned on him. “Charlie, I’m kind of scared.”

He did not say anything but simply pulled her closer to him and held her hand and squeezed it. There were plenty of things happening all at once and at the moment Charlie did not want to add to it.

“But if I’m with you and we’re doing this together,” continued Hermione, “I’ll be okay.” She looked at him with big trusting eyes that constricted his heart, grateful that his brother’s stupidity did not affect their relationship. “You won’t let me do this on my own, right?”

“Never,” Charlie promised and kissed her temple.

Unbeknownst to them, Avienne and Memphis stood at the side of the cave, watching them.

“Are you sure?” asked Memphis in a whisper.

“Absolutely,” said Avienne. “All the signs are pointing to it. The same bond with the dragons, the same abilities that are developing seemingly out of nowhere… they are being prepared. That egg is the catalyst. Hermione is the impetus.” The silver-haired witch looked up at the dark-skinned dragon keeper. “They will be Fated.”

***

When Blaise showed up at the Reserve and invited Hermione over to lunch with him, she expected them to go to an upscale café. What she did not expect was for that upscale café to be in Paris, in front of the Eifel Tower, right beside a building with a billboard of Blaise’s face on top.

“Which view do you want me to look at?” Hermione asked him, cheekily gesturing to the Tower and the billboard.

“Whichever view brings you much happiness,” said Blaise.

She pointedly chose the seat with her back to his billboard, gaining a laugh from the dark-skinned Slytherin as he pushed in her chair and took the one opposite.

“I hope you don’t mind,” said Blaise, “but I’ve already pre-ordered our food. They’ll be bringing it in a moment.”

“Don’t I get a choice?”

“If you don’t like what I chose for you, Princess, you’re free to order something else.”

The waitress poured them a glass of bubbly and left.

“So what’s this about?” asked Hermione after a sip.

“Can’t I take a friend to lunch?”

Hermione simply raised an eyebrow. A few weeks ago, Harry came to have lunch. Dean and Seamus took her out for a movie. Theo and Mandy, the twins, and _Pansy_ followed that for goodness sake, and now Blaise.

The Slytherin sighed. “We just want to make sure you’re okay,” he admitted slowly. “We want to make sure you’re eating and that you know that you have our support. Not that we’re abandoning Ron to be on your team. We’re all adults here. We simply want to ensure you – both of you – are supported with whatever you need.”

Appreciation for her friends bloomed in Hermione’s chest, but she also could not help but cross her arms. Blaise did not miss the gesture, but he let her to her thoughts, for which she was grateful.

“I’m not expecting you lot to chose between me and… and him,” Hermione started, “but I do want to know something.”

Blaise inclined his head.

Hermione exhaled sharply. Over the past weeks, Ron had never left the papers. They portrayed him drinking, partying, and womanizing, and without any coverage from Hermione, there were unflattering rumours implying a vast array of accusations and pitiful headlines concerning her. Hermione never read the articles, but Ron’s photographs were hard to ignore. Not that she believed every single one. This was Skeeter; that woman could make mountains out of molehills and Hermione had fallen victim to that many times. Her so-called “relationship” with Draco was nothing but camera tricks and camera angles. But there were photographs… Ron was kissing their shoulder… and no matter how much Hermione tried to ignore them, they hurt.

“Mione…” Blaise called, but was met by a sharp glare from her. “ _Her_ mione,” he corrected and she relented. “You do know women just throw themselves at him, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s kissing their shoulder!” she hissed.

“He’s plastered!” Blaise hissed back. “If he’s not working, the boy is drinking. And now, his commanding officer is not giving him any new cases because apparently, he’d come into work hangover a few times. The boy’s a mess. I’m not telling you that to guilt you, either. If anything, Ron’s proving he has a lot of growing up to do. It also probably doesn’t help that Draco and I had been paying people to jinx and hex him every now and again.”

“Why?”

“Because Harry forbade us from doing it ourselves, of course. And you do not want to know what Pansy had been up to.”

Hermione's hesitance only lasted a second. "What did she do?"

Blaise took a sip. "Take advantage of her absence, because _technically_ , Harry didn't forbid her."

Hermione fiddled with the napkin on the table. “What did Harry say?”

“Harry’s punched him a few times, only when he’s sober, though. Said he wanted Ron to remember there were consequences for being a dick.” Blaise smirked. “Other than that, Harry treats him professionally at work but he’s not antagonizing him outside of work, either.”

The waitress came and placed _croque monsieur_ in front of Hermione and _salmon en papillote_ in front of Blaise. “ _Bon appetite_.”

“ _Merci_ ,” replied the two.

Hermione took a bite and closed her eyes. She almost moaned. The ham, the cream, _the cheese_ ; it was all so perfect and heavenly. When she opened her eyes again, Blaise was looking smug. “Shut up,” she muttered.

“I was just going to say, you look lovely.” He looked down at her black boat-necked sheath dress that stopped under the knee. Hermione paired the three-quarter sleeved dress with a red belt and red heels that simply made it pop. Simple, yet elegant. “Classy.”

“Thank you,” said Hermione and pushed her half-crown braided hair off her shoulder, exposing her scar. “What?”

Blaise had a small smile on his face. “This is progress.”

“That I’m no longer hiding my scar?”

“That you’re no longer conscious and insecure of it.”

Hermione swallowed. She knew the Slytherins were far more perceptive than the Gryffindors, but for Blaise to be blunt about it was both relieving and nerve-wracking.

“Scared I’ll keep on pointing things out that’ll make you uncomfortable?” Blaise guessed.

Hermione nodded and he chuckled.

“All right, all right.” He sipped his drink and ate. “I heard you blew off Scar-head for a baby dragon.”

Topic successfully switched, Hermione excitedly told him of their newly hatched Fireball. The newborn was a lot of work. He would cry if Charlie and Hermione were not present and, like any Fireball, he was beginning to get aggressive. He could blow sparks of flames from his nostrils already, and has done so whenever Michan and Memphis tried to take him to feed him. Avienne chose to stay away, insisting on documenting every moment, every reaction from the small red dragon. She was rarely seen without a clipboard for her notes now. As a result, Charlie and Hermione were taking shifts watching over the little red thing.

Adherion met the Fireball a day after it hatched. Like Adherion had done with the egg and Oliver, he held the tiny dragon’s claw and pressed his face upon the tiny one’s face, sharing a breath. To their surprise, the Fireball not only complied but even sent Adherion a tiny mushroom-shaped cloud of smoke. According to Charlie, the newborn was fondly acknowledging the whelp.

Now, on one hand, Charlie and Hermione were taking shifts looking after the two dragons and there were days where they were finding it quite easy as the two dragons were responding to both of them like highly trained pets. Adherion even helped to heat up the Fireball’s furnace if he was uncomfortable. And even Lucile did not mind the presence of the tiny one who seemed to think Adherion was his big brother. On the other hand, there were some days when tantrums started and there seemed to be no end to them.

“Getting them to sleep is still a chore,” said Hermione as their desserts were being served: _Mocha pots de crème_ for her and _cappuccino soufflé_ for him. “Most nights, I still have to sing them both to sleep.”

Blaise could not help but shake his head in amusement. “These are dragons, Hermione. _Dra-gons_. You talk about them like they’re puppies or… human spawn.”

“You mean children.”

“That’s what I said. You sing them to sleep and sway them and _baby talk_.”

“I do not baby talk.”

“You were cooing.”

“Was not.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Talk about the Fireball’s face and golden spikes in a monotone and I will light the Eiffel Tower with the words ‘I will never question Hermione Granger ever again’.”

Hermione schooled her features neutrally. “The newborn Fireball has smooth scarlet scales and his face is – it’s fringed by _these golden spikes that are so soft and cute and brings out his bulging eyes and it’s so_ –” Hermione cleared her throat. “If you tell the others about this, I will end you.”

Blaise simply raised his flute and drank. “It’s a good distraction for you, then. I’m glad.”

A sigh left Hermione. He was right. She loved the Fireball and Adherion, but at the moment, that was all they were: distraction. She and Harry avoided the topic of Ron. She and Charlie were far too focused on mentoring and co-parenting two dragons, not to mention research. She and Avienne were pre-occupied with the seemingly non-existent logic in the changes that were happening. Hermione has not had the chance to actually deal with her feelings for Ron, except at night, when she still played music just to let out bits and pieces of her heartache so she could function the next day and deny the whole thing existed. But now, with her friend, away from all of it, perhaps it would be a good time.

“Care for a walk?”

Blaise, gentleman that he was, was already out of his seat and pulling hers back before offering his arm and leading her to the direction of the Eiffel Tower.

The air was brisk outside and leaves already covered the grounds. Around them, businessmen and women, couples and tourists alike walked about the plaza. Hermione put on dark grey gloves that matched her dark grey princess coat and allowed Blaise, who wore a cream-coloured overcoat over his turtleneck, to lead her.

“Would it be stupid of me to say that I miss our family,” Hermione asked, “even though I don’t want to get back together with him?”

Blaise shook his head. “Not stupid, no… You do seem sure that you don’t want to get back together.”

“I am.”

Blaise regarded her silently for a while. “Is it not just anger speaking?”

Hermione considered it. “I’m more hurt than angry.”

“And once that hurt heals?”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m sure. I loved him, Blaise. And now, I can’t ever get the image of his disgust out of my head. He left me…”

“And went to his mistress, I know.”

“No, you don’t…” Squeezing his arm and making up her mind, Hermione divulged the details of that night as well as what she had realized had been happening, how much Ron had avoided her scars. By the time she was finished, Blaise had stopped walking in shock, absolutely appalled.

“That… that’s…”

“Rough? Yeah…” Hermione led them to a bench and watched the people around the plaza for a bit. “I did not feel enough, you know? I felt lacking as a woman, I felt insecure. And those photographs of him with all those women… his response when I asked him why he chose her…” She shook her head and looked down.

“So that’s why…” he looked down on her shoulder where her scar was, realizing the reason she was normalizing them: she was teaching herself to love her body.

“And now that we’re not together, there’s a part of me that’s just… relieved. And I know it shouldn’t be like that because we’ve known each other since we were children, we’ve gone through so much… But…” Hermione sighed. “If only loving someone is easier.”

Blaise huffed his agreement, a look of longing in his eyes. “If only we’re all Fated just so we can know who we’re supposed to love and avoid all these nonsense.”

Hermione looked at him curiously. “Fated?”

“You don’t know what Fated is?”

A shake of the head.

A chuckle. “Hold on, let me savour this moment. There aren’t many opportunities that one gets to teach the brightest witch –”

An elbow in his sternum.

“Okay, okay. Well, simply put, Fated are couples that are meant to be together.”

“Like soul mates?”

“Princess, don’t frown. Don’t tell me you don’t believe in that.”

A shrug. “Just seems far fetched.”

“You work with _dragons_.”

“Still seems far fetched.”

A sigh. “There are three kinds of Fated. The first are people born with the knowledge of who they’ll be with. The second are people who learn who they’ll be with by their first meeting. The third are people who learn who they’ll be with upon taking a path magic has chosen for them.”

“And how exactly do they come to this knowledge?”

“The names of their Fated appear in their body.”

This time, Hermione laughed. “Okay, _very_ far fetched.”

“Is it? Because Theo and Mandy are Fated. They knew since they were born with each other’s names.”

Hermione stared blankly at him.

“Mandy has Theo’s name in the middle of her spine. Theo has her name on his left knee. Both have the exact same infinity sign behind it.”

From the back of her mind, Hermione remembered being in the Battle of Hogwarts with Theo confronting his father. _“I am not_ besotted _to her. I am in love with her. I am Fated to be with her, Father, whether you like it or not.”_

A slight gasp escaped her lips. “How come I’ve never heard of it?”

“Being Fated is not something we all talk about casually. It deserves reverence and respect. No higher bond in the magical world exists. Not familial bond, not blood bond, not even the Unbreakable Vow can overpower the bond of the Fated. It is sacred ancient magic. The most natural and most pure.”

Hermione found herself longing to know more about the Fated, but a part of her also realized, she probably was not one of them. “It’s rare magic, isn’t it?”

“The first and the third kinds are; the third more so than the first. But the second kind is quite common.”

Hermione’s head turned quite fast. “Really? How common?”

Blaise thought about it. “If the couple does not often argue and seems in sync and communicates without speaking, most often than not, they are Fated.”

Hermione could think of Bill and Fleur and her own Weasley parents, maybe even Harry and Ginny. Or maybe not the latter, otherwise, she would have known by now. She sighed again. “Maybe I just have rotten luck and can never have it that easy.”

A pat on her back. “Tell me, mama dragon, are you happy where you are right now? And I don’t mean in Paris with me. Are you happy?”

Hermione thought about it. Yes, she was still hurting, but with Ron no longer in the picture, she could actually gain her confidence back. She could feel empowered by her body again and not be made to feel awful about things that were out of her control. She was learning a lot with Charlie and Avienne and their dragons and not made fun of because of her enthusiasm. She had friends and a family that was growing well beyond the Weasleys. She had a home that was her own. And she was free…

A smile made its way on Hermione’s face. “Yes,” she said. “I am happy.”

“Then it’s not rotten luck.”

***

Kingsley paced in his office as night fell all around him. He had people meticulously combing through the Scottish mountains for anyone in the wizarding community who may have knowledge of Viking lore, but so far have come empty-handed. Today, he had another meeting with the Unspeakable. Hopefully, now there would be a name, or at the very least a location.

Three knocks came at the door. Kingsley bid enter and two people came in. The first was the Unspeakable and beside her was Frank Berthanelli, one of the Head Aurors in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that Kingsley would trust with his life, or even more, Harry’s. The Auror was not very tall nor was he very big, but he had a presence about him that made him seem a giant. His nose had been broken too many times and his black hair was cut short as to not be a bother. He moved and walked like a hardened man who had seen many unspeakable things, with a sneer that has frightened even those in Voldemort’s inner circle. No one would suspect this man had two children he doted on and a wife he deeply loved.

“What news?” Kingsley asked after he felt Berthanelli ward his office. That gave him hope. That meant there was something to talk about.

“We finally got a name,” Berthanelli replied, his voice gruff.

“Well?”

“Eleonora Wood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an advance notice, I will be posting again maybe tomorrow and/or Friday (well, it would be Friday for me, I don't know when it'll come to you. Timezones are hard). But because of Reasons, I would not be able to post more until next weekend. Hope that's all right. See you then! :)


	19. The Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting WEEKS for us to get to this stage!!! Now it's here!!! So, I'll make this quick. Just note: There are a lot of changes of perspective in this chapter, so please be advised. I mean a lot, a lot. Like, A LOT. Enjoy!
> 
> The song used in this story is not my own. It belongs to the singers, writers and producers.  
> I’m just using their paint to colour my canvas.

Hermione stretched her arms up over her head as she slowly rolled into consciousness, her body aching from lying on the hard mattress. She would have to go home soon. She did not even know she fell asleep, but evidently, she did.

“Baby, baby, no,” Charlie groaned softly. “Come here.”

A sigh left Hermione as she felt a light weight on her hip moving slowly up towards her stomach, the valley of her breasts and finally her neck. She smiled at the tiny puffs of air and the tender kisses she was being showered.

“Come on, please,” Charlie cooed and then groaned.

Hermione opened her eyes to see Charlie hovering on top of her, the newborn Fireball in his hands. “Hey.”

“See? Now you’ve woken her,” Charlie lightly scolded the dragon. “Sorry about that. He saw you move and thought it was fair game.”

Hermione chuckled. “Sorry for falling asleep.” She sat up from the small mattress they have conjured in the Incubation Ward and looked at the mess on the floor. “What happened here?” Twigs, ropes and small rocks and bits of hay were littered everywhere.

“Nazuri,” Charlie answered simply, nodding at the tiny Fireball now struggling in his hands, trying to get to Hermione.

A giggle left her and she took pity on the little thing, picking him up as she stood. “Shh, shh, shh, shh, it’s all right,” said Hermione as she swayed with the baby dragon. “Where’s his bottle?”

Charlie handed her one. “He won’t sleep with me. This is favouritism and I am _this close_ to filing a complaint.”

Hermione amusedly shook her head and allowed the little one to suckle as she held him in her chest like a human newborn. “You’re the one who named him ‘mischief’.”

“That’s because he is,” said Charlie, plopping down on the mattress and covering his eyes with his arm as he yawned. "I think I'm four days past my bedtime." The poor man has not had a full eight hours of sleep the past few days as Nazuri entered his one month stage and had learnt the joys of vocalization. At the moment, the little newborn stopped suckling to give Hermione a whining groan.

“Shall I sing for you? Shall I sing?” Hermione asked. As she began her song, the tiny dragon began to suckle again.

_No more talk of darkness_

_Forget these wide-eyed fears_

_I’m here, nothing can harm you_

_My words will warm and calm you_

_Let me be your freedom_

_Let daylight dry your tears_

_I’m here, with you, beside you_

_To guard you and to guide you_

_Say you’ll love me every waking moment_

_Turn my head with talk of summertime_

_Say you need me with you now and always_

_Promise me that all you say is true_

_That’s all I ask of you_

As she continued with her song, Hermione remembered the dream she had. She and her parents were in Richmond Park watching the deer play about in the snow. They were having a family picnic and her mother had made hot chocolate just as she liked it. Then it changed to the three of them watching the Phantom of the Opera in the Victoria Theatre. It must have been because it was the first week of December already and, oh, how she missed them. She did not really know what she would do this Christmas, let alone where she would go. Perhaps she could stay here with Avienne and the boys. But of course, Charlie would have to go spend Christmas with the Weasleys. And of course, they would be inviting her, because broken up with Ron or not, she was a part of the family. The question was: would she go?

_Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Say the word and I will follow you_

_Share each day with me_

_Each night, each morning_

_Say you love me_

_That’s all I ask of you_

Hermione looked down at the newborn in her arms and smiled. He had fallen asleep. Gently, she placed the baby dragon onto the furnace, barely flinching at the heat of the coals and stepped back. She ran her finger down his golden spikes and noted how fragile this little one was and how quickly it would pass. Adherion was now five feet long and the whelp was desperately trying to learn how to fly. Hermione was not able to lift him now and he was still quite needy when around. However, thankfully, he was content to settle down with his head on her lap.

“Feeling sentimental?”

Hermione looked down to see Charlie looking up at her with a small smile on his bearded face and crinkles on the side of his eyes. She nodded and sat beside him on the mattress. “In a few short months, his growth spurt will come and I won’t be able to lift him.”

“Not until he’s six months old.”

“It’ll go by quickly. Look at Adherion.” She frowned. “I miss him.”

At eight months old, the whelp was encouraged to move into the north-eastern mountains where Lucile had chosen to build her den. They were up the side of the mountain by the lake. And since it was too far to travel, Hermione has not had the chance to see him much. The only time they got to spend together now was during his check-ups.

Charlie ran his hand up and down her shin to comfort her. “Think about it this way, in four months time, Adherion would be a year old. Meaning he’ll be able to fly freely in the Reserve. Who do you think he’d go to first?”

A small smile graced Hermione’s lips. “Me.”

“Exactly. By that time, Nazuri would be five months old. Which would mean his neediness and clinginess would loosen up a notch or three. If we’re _really_ lucky, by ten.”

Hermione giggled.

“So you’ll have your two dragons and possibly another newborn to add to the mix.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I guess it would be difficult to have Adherion and Nazuri together in one cave.”

“Exactly and I am willing – did you hear that?” Charlie sat bolt upright. Both their eyes immediately flew to the second incubator. The coal-coloured egg had been wiggling and now it managed to wobble its way to the edge of the furnace. Without second thought, Hermione and Charlie jumped up and dove towards the furnace in time for the egg to topple over.

Hermione’s heart was beating in slow motion as her eyes followed the egg down. Her fingertips touched the egg, but it was not enough. She was falling, too.

The egg neared the hard ground when Charlie caught it with one hand and Hermione with the other. As a result, she landed on top of him quite heavily.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!”

Hermione allowed herself to fall to his side and both of them sat up, their legs still tangled. Charlie clutched the egg closer to the two of them, slowly inspecting it, when it twitched in his hands.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. “Little one, I know you’re excited to hear your mummy’s voice and her singing, but diving off the furnace is _not good_.” He looked at Hermione. “This one is definitely _your_ dragon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like you, this one has no regard for my poor nerves.”

“Goodness' sake, Charlie –”

“Blatant disregard –”

“– you’re being dramatic now –”

“– adventure-seeking, frightening escapades –”

“– it just wiggled a bit –”

“– absolutely scaring me –”

Someone cleared their throat quite loudly interrupting the two. They looked up to see Avienne, Memphis and Michan looking at them with their arms crossed on their chests and smirks on their faces.

“Well, you’re looking cozy,” said Memphis, looking down at their still entangled legs.

The two quickly disentangled themselves and stood up, trying to stop themselves from laughing like two children caught red-handed.

“By the way,” said Michan, pointing at Charlie’s chest, “your shirt is burning.”

Quickly, Charlie handed the egg to Hermione and removed his flannel and his shirt, which indeed had a hole through it now caused by the heat of the egg. Hermione tried to stop her laughter for Nazuri’s sake and instead placed the egg back on the incubator. She then waved her wand to manipulate the coals to act like a barrier so the egg would not fall again.

“What were you two arguing about?” asked Avienne.

Both Charlie and Hermione pointed at each other and began a tirade about poor nerves and dramatic flares and then began to laugh again.

“They haven’t slept in quite a while,” said Memphis. “You’d have to forgive them.”

Avienne shook her head in amusement. “Go to bed then, both of you.”

“Together or…?” Michan did not get to finish the question as Hermione threw Charlie’s shirts at his face.

Bidding the others goodnight, Hermione and Charlie made their way down, past the pit and towards the entrance, still laughing at each other and teasing. Out of nowhere, Hermione felt herself go dizzy and her strength left her. It was as though something had snuffed out her consciousness and the last thing she heard was Charlie calling her name before everything turned black.

***

Oliver was packing his bag, preparing to go to Wales then to England for the remainder of the Quidditch season. So far, out of their five games, they have managed to win four. Not a perfect run, but higher than most. He was purposefully keeping his mind busy with the matches and making strategies and running practices, but when his mother called him home for the weekend, there was nothing to do but remember.

To be fair, Oliver was doing well until he read the article that divulged Ron Weasley’s secret to the whole of wizarding Britain. After that, focus became difficult to come by. He told himself, if he could only talk to Hermione, see how she was doing, then he would be able to move on and focus. But the logical part of his brain claimed that if he did talk to her and she was not doing well, how would he be able to focus then?

At the very back of his brain, Oliver kept under lock and key the wee voice that was celebrating Hermione’s newfound freedom. If she was suddenly without a boyfriend, then that would mean –

Oliver shook his head and loudly cleared his throat. This was exactly why he needed to focus!

“Master?” a small voice called out behind him making Oliver turn. It was Dill, their house-elf. Dill was younger than most house-elves in the Estate. She had smooth pink skin, large blue eyes and bat-like ears that drooped a wee bit at the ends and a small pointed nose. She liked wearing a small pink-and-white striped dress with a pretty pink bow at the back. She was still a bit shy around Oliver.

“Hello, Dill,” Oliver greeted. “Can a help ye with anything?”

The wee elf shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no, no, siree. Dill does not need Master’s help. Dill needs Master to come to Mistress’ room. Mistress calls for Master now, yes, she does.”

“A’right,” Oliver said with a smile. “A’ll finish packing then a’ll go.”

Dill fervently shook her head again that Oliver wondered if she was making herself dizzy. “No, no, no, siree. Dill will finish the packing, Master. Master must go to Mistress. She calls for him, yes, she does.”

Oliver chuckled a bit. “A’right, fine. Thank ye, Dill.”

The wee elf blushed and batted her watering eyes before diving on to packing, while Oliver made his way to his mother’s room right to the other end of the hall.

“Ma?”

“Oli! Come, come here tae mae.”

Eleonora Wood was a woman who had known suffering. She was still in her late forties but looked much older because of her episodes. It was not something she could control and often left her weak and weary. She had her moments of strength, but in truth, that was all it was – moments.

Now, seeing her lying down in the gigantic bed she used to share with her husband, she seemed even more dwarfed and fragile. Her blonde hair once full and shiny was now lacklustre. Her cheeks were hollowed and thin. It was obvious she once was a beautiful woman, and Oliver hoped that once her health was restored, he would see his mother back to her former self.

The bed dipped as Oliver lay down beside his mother and she wrapped her arm around his head, cradling him close and kissing his temple.

“All packed?” she asked him.

“Naw, almost.”

She nodded for a bit. “A’ll go doon tae the gardens tadae.”

Oliver turned to her. “Ye feel strong enough fer tha’?”

“Aye. The sun’s up and a dinnae feel like being cooped up tadae.”

A chuckle escaped Oliver. “Want mae tae come with ye?”

Eleonora shook her head. “Naw, a was wondering aboot tha’ lass ye were talking aboot?”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, though he knew it was inevitable. “What lass?”

“What lass? The wan ye fancy.”

He chuckled again. “Are ye sure ye a’right?”

Eleonora ruffled his hair. “Aye! A am! Noo, hoo’s the lass? She seen any af yer games?”

“Naw.”

“Why?”

A shrug. “She’s busy.”

“Busy? Yer haverin’.”

“Ma! What’s gotten tae ye?”

“Nothing! Just tell mae aboot the lass, Oli!”

“There’s literally nothing tae tell.”

“Ye like her. Tha’s something.”

“Something tha’ dinnae matter.”

Eleonora sighed. “Go tae her. _Talk_ tae her.”

“Ma… why are ye pushing this?”

“Because ye’ll be gone fer hoo many months and a want ye tae see the lass before that.” She turned his face to her. “A kno ye want tae, Oli. Ye came from mae, a can read ye like a book. Sweetheart, just swalloo yer pride and go and see the lass.” She patted his cheek gently. “Go…”

Oliver reached out and planted a kiss on her cheek before getting up to do just that. And he could not hide to himself or to anyone with eyes that he had a wide smile on his face as he called for the Scottish Reserve in the floo.

Meanwhile, as soon as her son has gone, Eleonora called for Dill and Lattie.

“Help mae bathe and prepare ma robes, lassies,” she said. “A’ll hae very important guests tadae.”

Oliver emerged in Central and immediately went to the cafeteria. It was the lunch hour, so she must be there now. However, there was no sight of her when he peeked in.

“Oli?”

The Scot turned around to see Thell behind him. “Hey, a was just looking fer Hermione. D’ye ken where she is?”

Thell frowned and gestured for Oliver to come closer. That could not be good. “Hermione’s not feeling well at the moment,” he said. “She’s up at the Medic Bay with Avienne.”

“What’s happened?”

“She collapsed. We don’t know the cause, but she’s burning up a fever.”

Oliver felt his heart on his throat. “Can a see her?”

Thell hesitated then peeked through the cafeteria before making up his mind. “Come with me.”

The dragon keeper took two brooms from the supply closet and handed one to Oliver. They then flew to the cream white structure jutting out of the cliff face between Central and the Crèche. It was the Medic Bay. Oliver had gone to the place once when he needed to visit his brother after Adrian lost a fight to a Welsh Green.

The Medic Bay was composed of several floors. On the ground level minor burns and splinters were treated. On the first floor were second- to third-degree burns. On the second, they housed those with broken bones. On the third were those with potion burns and cauldron explosions. And on the fourth floor, they housed those with the flu, poisoning and spell damage, and just about everything else.

Thell brought them to the fourth floor and into one of the rooms with three beds lined along the right side, but only the one at the very end was occupied.

Hermione lay with her long undone, being brushed by Avienne. It reminded Oliver of his mother how small she was and how fragile she looked. This was not the Hermione he knew.

“What are you two doing here?” Avienne asked.

“The boys need you in the Crèche,” said Thell. “Raphael and Ardy weren’t in the cafeteria. You know Adherion better than any others there. Let Oliver watch Hermione for a while –”

“Are you out of your mind?” Avienne hissed and stepped away from the sleeping brunette for a bit. “Surely the lot of you can handle one eight-month-old whelp.”

“He’ll freak out with Hermione not there, and you know Charlie has his hands full with Nazuri.” Thell pulled his hair back. “Avi, come on. Oliver can watch over her for a few hours. Just until Adherion’s check-up is finished.”

“A don’t mind it,” said Oliver. “Go. They need hands and a cannae help with tha’. Let mae dae this.”

Avienne threw one more worried look at Hermione before finally relenting. As she and Thell ran out of the door, Oliver sat by Hermione’s bed and held her hand, his heart breaking a bit.

“Wha’ happened, lass?”

***

“Minister Shacklebolt,” Eleonora greeted, standing from her seat under the gazebo in the gardens. “Welcome tae the Wood Estate.”

“Mrs. Wood, thank you.” Shacklebolt stopped before her and kissed the back of her hand. “Please allow me to introduce to you my colleagues. These are Auror Berthanelli and Madame Unspeakable.”

“Pleased tae meet ye. Sit doon, please.” Eleonora asked Lattie to serve them some tea and watched her guests. She was usually good with people, better at reading them, though, of course, she had some warning and time to do her own investigation. As a result, she was even more prepared than they had anticipated, which would work in her favour well. “Hoo can a help ye, Minister?”

Kingsley looked at the Unspeakable and the Auror before replying. “I saw the fountain outside of your home, Mrs. Wood. It is a beautiful display,” he complemented. “Vikings, I assume.”

“Aye,” Eleonora smiled. “But ye didnae come all the way tae Scotland fer a chat aboot statues, did ye, Minister?”

“No, I came for something else. I am told that there is a Seer from the mountains of Scotland that is a descendant of the ancient Vikings.”

“Aye, in most Pureblood families, if ye trace it back far enough, there will be those af Nordic and Scandinavian descendants, Vikings, who had travelled tae Scotland tae settle their magic here. Our family, along with many others, are wan af the few remaining descendants.” She sipped her tea and watched the three exchange looks. Doubt was beginning to creep its way in.

Shacklebolt turned to her. “Mrs. Wood, we need to know. Are you the Seer we are looking for?”

Her laughter was far from fragile, yet still demure. “Minister, a barely hae enough strength tae make tea.”

“It is of utmost importance that we find this Seer.”

“And why is tha’?”

Shacklebolt hesitated, before his face turned neutral. “There are a few ancient laws that needs to be changed in the Ministry and we need a partner to sway the Wizengamot.”

“Hardly seems necessary tae find a Seer specifically.”

“We need a particular one,” said the Auror gruffly.

“Only those with knowledge of the ancient laws can help in the investigation and research, you see,” said Shacklebolt.

Eleonora sipped her tea once more. “Surely, a politician can lie better than tha’.”

The auror stood up.

“Sit down, _boy_. Ye are on ancient groonds. If ye want tae see another day, a suggest ye learn tae play nice.” She looked at Shacklebolt and gently said, “And a suggest ye learn tae be truthful, Minister. If ye truly want ma help.”

Shacklebolt inhaled sharply. He was tested and he failed. “We believe danger is coming and we would like to be prepared when it does.”

“Naw, ye wish tae exploit the truth and use ancient magic as a weapon.” Eleonora lifted her chin. “A willnae have it. The rules af ancient magic are beyond yer politics and petty squabbles. Ye have naw right tae something ye cannae control.”

***

Hermione groaned and Oliver immediately sat bolt upright on his chair. When she moved her head, he held her hand.

“Hermione? Hermione, lass, are ye a’right? How’re ye feeling?”

“Oliver?” She opened her chocolate brown eyes with difficulty, but look at him anyway, and Oliver felt like a belt has been loosened around his chest.

“Yer a’right! Merlin’s pants! This is good. A’ll call a healer, just wait –”

“Oli…” Hermione squeezed his hand, groaning again and, losing her battle with her eyes, shut it tightly. Oliver shouted for a healer. One came, and unlike the ones from St. Mungo’s, she was wearing light green scrubs.

The healer ran diagnostics upon Hermione and gave her a potion. Upon finishing, she told Oliver that Hermione’s fever has not gone down since that morning. Her magical core, which was fluctuating, was still doing so, but not as much as it was earlier either. Hermione needed to sleep it off and rest.

“D’ye hear, lass?” he whispered to her, sandwiching her hand in both of his. “Ye need rest.”

She turned her face towards him, but could not open her eyes. “What ‘bout you?”

“A’ll stay right here.”

“And Charlie? We have a baby, Oli. A baby Fireball. Charlie needs to sleep.”

Oliver chuckled. “He’ll be a‘right; he’s a big boy. And he came frae a big family. Am sure he can take care af yer baby dragon fer a night.”

Hermione frowned, clearly not pleased. “I miss Adherion. You know him, right?”

“Aye, a dae. He’s a sweet dragon.”

“He misses you.”

“Next time am here, maybe a’ll pay him a visit then.”

Hermione smiled and opened her eyes slightly. “You’re a good man, Oli.” She brought their hands to her lips and kissed the back of his. She sighed and closed her eyes again. “Tell me a story.”

Oliver tried to calm his beating heart. _Oh, Oli, what’re ye doin’?_ Clearing his throat of the lump that was suddenly there, he traced circles on her hand with his thumb. He tried to eradicate his worry about seeing her like this, but all it did was cause him pain, knowing what they may never be.

“Oli,” called Hermione again and opened her eyes once more.

Oliver tried to smile, but his heart was being squeezed. “Aye?” It came out as a whisper so he cleared his throat again.

“Tell me a story.”

“What story?”

“Your favourite story as a boy.” She blinked lazily, fighting the closing of her eyes once more.

“A’right…” He picked up a damp cloth and wiped her forehead gently. Her face was still feverish. “Wance upon a time, in the mountains of Scotland… lived Vikings. They were fierce warriors who defended their land and defended their people. They wielded swords and weapons… and magic as well.”

“The Vikings were wizards?”

“Aye, wizards and witches who were trained in combat. Their ways were nae always conventional, but it was their duty to combat evil.”

Hermione smiled. “They’re different from the muggle stories.”

Oliver smiled, too. “Aye, they are, lass, but ye’ll love it. See, their fiercest warrior was Solveig. She also happened tae be their wisest princess.”

Hermione’s smile brightened and Oliver could not help but kiss the back of her hand. The back of his mind offered silent prayers and continued chants of, _Please be a’right. Please be a’right. Please…_

***

“Mrs. Wood, you don’t understand,” said Shacklebolt, sitting forward in his chair. “It is my belief that sooner or later, Voldemort will come back.”

Eleonora kept her face blank.

“And once he does, we must be prepared. And we cannot be prepared without the aid of this ancient prophecy.”

“Hoo dae ye knoo what the ancient prophecy says?” she countered. “Only the wan who the prophecy is aboot can hear it.”

“Yes, and we’ve learnt that the prophecy has been heard.”

Again, Eleonora kept her face blank.

“If it is somehow tampered, or perhaps heard by the wrong side, we need the situation balanced.”

“And hoo dae ye ken tha’ it is the wrong side tha’ has heard it?”

Shacklebolt sighed. “If the one who’s heard it is the one the prophecy is foretelling, shouldn’t they have helped in the Battle? Shouldn’t they have ensured Voldemort is well and truly gone?”

Eleonora drank her tea.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, she knows something!” said the Auror with a raised voice.

Eleonora barely blinked. “Yer a rough man on the ootside, _Frank_ , but a hae seen all the funny faces ye’ve made tae cheer up yer wee lass. And a’ve heard all the funny noises ye’ve made tae entertain yer wee lad. Ava and Emmanuel, those are their names, am a right?”

Berthanelli froze then his eyes turned cold. “Are you threatening my –”

“Naw, am nae. But am gifted enough tae knoo yer sins, Frank Berthanelli, things ye’ve nae breathed tae yer friends, much less tae Janine.” She fixed him under a steady gaze. “Am nae wan tae tempt, Frank.”

“Mrs. Wood,” said Shacklebolt diplomatically, “please, ma’am, we apologize. We are here to prepare the side of the Light should the need arise to once again protect the wizarding world. Steps have been taken to investigate –”

Eleonora stood up. “Ancient magic is powerful, dae ye ken tha’, Minister?”

Shacklebolt and his colleagues stood up as well and followed her as she walked. “Yes, I do.”

“There are some ancient magics that are _ingrained_ in the earth. Like these sacred groonds, fer example. Ye can feel it in the air; it practically thrums with magic.

“In some cases, the waters are considered sacred. Pools and fountains blessed by ancient entities and rituals tha’ hae continued tae remain soo fer thousands and thousands af years.” She climbed up the stairs to the manor and made their way past rooms and portraits alike. “The elements are ancient and hae been aroond since the very beginning af time. Nature is ancient, and powerful at tha’. It will always claim what belongs to it, and even what disnae.”

She stopped in front of heavy oaken double doors. Engraved on it were heavy, swirling clouds and thunderous seas. Vikings on warships with enormous dragonheads rode gigantic waves with their swords and spears raised. Even now, the hairs on Eleonora’s arms still stood to attention whenever she came to this room.

“What a am aboot to shoo ye are ancient artefacts. Yer nae tae touch anything.” When the three nodded, she opened the doors.

Inside the Great Room were portraits, busts and ancient weaponry. Portraits that depicted old Viking battles, battle formations, kings and queens seated on ancient altar hung on every inch of the walls. Pedestals scattered about the place, spaced so one could easily walk through, carried busts of past warriors and leaders. Ancient weaponry lined up on one of the walls, still in pristine condition. Scrolls filled the shelves on the far left wall and scattered about were tomes of great numbers and sizes.

Eleonora entered to the centre of the Room stopping in front of a long mahogany table before facing her guests. “These are ancient artefacts, collected and passed doon from generation tae generation. We’ve kept all we could and protected all we could. Whatever it is ye ask noo, if a hae the answers, a will give it tae ye.” She stepped forward, eyeing each of her guests. “If ye lie and use these knowledge tae cause harm and cancel oot the balance in our world, ancient magic willnae spare ye.”

Electricity was in the air. If there was any thought of Eleonora Wood being a fragile old lady, it was dispelled in this room. She was a powerful witch with knowledge of ancient spells and magic. And the power of her ancestors in each artefact in this room only magnified her magic.

“Upon my magic,” said Shacklebolt, lifting his wand, “I, Kingsley Shacklebolt, vow not to speak, act or divulge any knowledge to be imparted to me in this room to throw the balance of good and evil. I will aid the side of the Light should the time come and do everything in my power to eradicate the side of Darkness.”

“I, Frank Berthanelli, vow not to speak, act or divulge any knowledge to be imparted to me in this room to throw the balance of good and evil. I will aid the side of the Light should the time come and do everything in my power to eradicate the side of Darkness. This I vow upon my magic.”

The Unspeakable hesitated.

“A think ye’ll find,” said Eleonora, “that it is very difficult tae keep secrets frae mae, Hestia Jones.”

The Minister turned to Eleonora.

The Auror clenched his hands into fists to stop his impulse of reaching for his wand.

The Unspeakable herself gasped, before pulling down her hooded cloak. The pale, dark-haired witch stared at the Scottish woman for a few seconds before smiling slightly. “It is not often that I am taken off-guard by someone, Mrs. Wood. For that I feel I must congratulate you.”

“Nae need tae, Miss Jones. It’s nice tae see what ye actually look like fer wance.”

Jones smiled even more and raised her wand. “Upon my magic, I, Hestia Jones, vow…”

***

Oliver played with the tips of Hermione’s long hair with one hand. His other still clasped hers and would not let go. “Solveig was raised by her father fighting and training alongside her brothers. She learnt tae duel both with weapons and with magic. She learnt tae read and tae write and she devoured knowledge with a thirst that far surpassed any af her peers. However, since she was nae the first born, the throne af her father and her people wouldnae go tae her but tae her brother, Endre. Endre was strong, but impulsive and he had naw patience. Solveig vowed tae serve her king and brother and ensure tha’ he wouldnae stray from the right path. Nevertheless, fate had other ideas.

“Solveig was in the river when she heard a loud beating of wings, like tha’ af a great beast. When she looked up, she saw a dragon circling above. Gracefully, it landed in front af her, its eyes bearing intae her soul. The dragon spoke tae her and chose her tae be wan with it.”

Hermione breathed in deeply. “The dragon spoke to her? How?”

Oliver scratched the back of his head. “A dinnae ken.”

“What?”

Oliver chuckled. “A dinnae knoo. Ken means knoo.” He chuckled again. “Am sorry fer ma accent.”

“No, I love your accent. Sometimes you just get carried away.”

“A’ll try – not – to – do – that.”

Hermione giggled. “No, don’t. I like hearing your accent. A dinnae ken why, but I do.”

Oliver’s heart felt full.

“So you don’t know how the dragon talked to Solveig?”

“Naw. When a was a kid, a always pictured it like an actual talking dragon.”

“Hmm… What did you mean the dragon chose her ‘to be one' with it?”

A smile spread across his face. “Ah, there’s ma favourite part. The dragon and Solveig shared a bond tha’ enabled them tae speak and understand each other. And when she needed tae, Solveig could see through the eyes af the dragon and the dragon could see through the eyes af Solveig.”

“Wow…”

Oliver touched her forehead and pushed back her hair. “Rest, Hermione.”

Hermione groaned in complaint. “No… Continue with the story, Oliver, please.” She could barely keep her eyes open, but it was not as if Oliver could deny her anything.

“Solveig became the first Viking tae ride a dragon. She became the first tae enter intae battle from the air. Her legend spread far and wide. And her strength and beauty became the inspiration fer songs and poetry. Many sought tae make her their wife, but Solveig refused ‘em. Many sought tae make her queen, but Solveig still refused ‘em. She served her brother and king fiercely and loyally.

“One day, as she walked the riverbank, the dragon came tae Solveig in distress. An enemy was coming, mighty and formidable. Even with Solveig and her dragon, they wouldnae win. So the dragon asked her what she was willing tae dae tae save their people. Solveig vowed anything in her power. The dragon then breathed his fire on Solveig and provoked ancient magic.”

Hermione looked distressed. “It killed her?”

“What? Naw. It compelled fate and brought forth Solveig’s Fated.”

This time, Hermione forced her eyes wide open. “Solveig has a Fated?”

“D’ye ken – d’ye knoo what Fated are?”

“Soul mates, right?”

“Right, but much more than tha’. Fated are bonded together by ancient magic. They share nae only their life forces but their magical cores as well. They strengthen each other, and when they are truly united, they are unbeatable.”

“So Solveig found a husband?”

“Aye, his name was Eirik and he was a Viking king of another clan.”

“Whoa… So she became queen.”

“Aye, she did, and tae unite the clans, her brother Endre gave his crown tae her in full support.”

“Yay…”

Oliver could not help but smile. “Her dragon breathed fire ontae another dragon, and tha’ became the dragon who connected and bonded with Eirik. So they rode off tae battle together.”

“Did they beat the bad guy?”

“Aye, they did. Solveig and Eirik became the first Viking king and queen tae reign two clans af free men and women. They then spread their kingdom’s boarders far and wide, until wizarding Scotland became united under twelve Viking clans under their rule with dragons on their side.”

“Is that why Vikings are always portrayed to be riding on ships with dragonheads?”

“Aye, it is.”

***

“The prophecy we’re looking for,” said Shacklebolt, “pertains to a weapon that will emerge to counter-balance the Dark.”

Eleonora watched him eyeing the time-worn scrolls and tomes. She watched and observed for greed in the Minister’s eyes but saw none. She looked at his colleagues and, though Berthanelli was a hard man, she saw nothing but fierce loyalty in him. Jones, however, caused Eleonora to ponder a little. The woman was a shifter, easily merging with the crowds, becoming what she must to get what she wanted and gain what she needed. Jones hardly had a true friend that knew her since her recruitment by Dumbledore in the First Wizarding War. She was groomed by the old manipulator and she ate by his side, learning anything and everything from him. Now, however, Eleonora could not sense any deceit in her. Perhaps if she looked closer, she would find Dumbledore’s manifesto echoing in her mind, screaming, _For the Greater Good_. Eleonora would have to continually watch her.

“A ken the wan,” she said. “It’s the same wan a’ve been waiting tae be fulfilled fer two years noo.”

The Auror huffed at her. “Why didn’t you just tell us?”

“A needed tae be sure ye could be trusted.”

“And how do we know we can trust you?” Jones asked.

Eleonora smiled. “Ye dinnae.” Closing her eyes, the Seer took a deep breath and felt the magic in the air and in the grounds come alive around her. Waving her wand in old and ancient patterns, she murmured the incantation and felt the earth move beneath her. The exclamations of the three confirmed they felt it, too, but Eleonora did not allow herself to be distracted.

As the magic around them settled, Eleonora opened her mouth and ancient prophecy spilled out of her lips unbidden.

“ _As the time af darkness closes and people once again sleep in peace in their beds, oot af new blood will be born the darkness once again… As the millennia ends, the wan who will take the Viking’s throne will be marked… And as ancient blood magic emerges, she who rests in the fire will cleanse us wance fer all_.”

Eleonora gasped for air and clutched the table behind her for support. Before her, the three guests stood stock still in shock.

***

Charlie has not had much sleep and worry has replaced the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins. He paced up and down in the Incubation Ward with Nazuri crying in his arms and refusing to suckle his bottle. Meanwhile, down at the pit, Memphis, Avienne, Michan and Thell had had to Stun Adherion. He continued to cantankerously beat his wings and threaten to hurt anyone who would come near him, making his check-up impossible. By the way the whelp was craning his neck to look about, Charlie knew he was looking for Hermione. They had not seen each other in weeks and perhaps the Opaleye was hoping she would be here to do the check-up on him. Either that or Adherion and Nazuri both could feel that Hermione was not feeling well.

“Baby, please, come on,” Charlie cajoled the little Fireball, but he still continued to wail. Whenever Charlie would place his bottle on him, the little newborn would spit it out and blow smoke at Charlie in protest. “I know, I know, you miss Hermione. I know you’re worried about her, too. So am I. But she needs to get better and that’ll take time.”

The little Fireball stopped his wailing, but now fidgeted instead. And then the little guy paused and then stopped completely. The little spikes on his head slowly lifted and his eyes focused on one thing: the egg.

Charlie’s instincts told him there was something else. Sure enough, when he turned around, he saw Adherion had come back into consciousness and was now quickly making his way out of the pit and up towards the stairs.

A crackling noise brought Charlie’s attention back towards the incubator. Inside, the egg was twitching. And on its surface, the very first crack appeared.

“GUYS!” Charlie bellowed and rushed towards the railing. “The egg is hatching! Avienne! Bring Hermione in here!”

“She’s in the Medic Bay with a fever –”

“I had a fever before Nazuri was born!”

Everything clicked. The silver-haired witched immediately ran towards the entrance of the cave, summoning her broom as she went.

“Michan, call Adrian!” shouted Charlie.

“On it!”

Meanwhile, instead of stopping Adherion, Memphis helped him up towards the Incubation Ward.

Charlie turned back inside as well. Nazuri was focused on the egg alone and Charlie could not help it when his anticipation skyrocketed. This was it. This was what they had been waiting for.

***

Shacklebolt sat down on one of the chairs around the mahogany table. It seemed to be a lot for him to take in.

Eleonora asked for water from Lattie and each of them was given a tall glass. She sat down as well; the magic has taken quite a bit out of her.

“I have some questions,” said Jones. “This is talking about our time, isn’t it? And more specifically, at the end of the millennia?”

“Aye,” confirmed Eleonora.

“That’s when the one who sits on the Viking’s throne will be marked? Precisely at the turn of the millennia?”

“Aye.”

“And we are up against ancient blood magic and new blood magic?” asked Shacklebolt.

Eleonora shook her head. “New blood that will give birth tae darkness by ancient blood magic.”

“What the hell does that mean?” asked the Auror.

“Tha’ a dinnae ken yet,” Eleonora admitted.

“The ‘one who rests in the fire’,” quoted Jones, “that will be the new Chosen One?”

“Aye.”

“What does _that_ mean?” asked the Auror.

Eleonora merely smiled.

“If there are only a few Viking descendants,” said Shacklebolt, “wouldn’t it be easier for us to track them and use the process of elimination to see who could be the next heir?”

Once again, Eleonora shook her head. “The Vikings chose their leaders differently. Some clans did it by blood so tha’ the title flowed on wan family alone, others by strength. But in the times when the Viking rulers hae died oot, those who remained unified tae elect a king or queen by wisdom, strength and strategy.”

“So we just have to wait for the people to unify and elect a leader then?” asked Berthanelli.

“Nae.”

“Then what is it?!” Berthanelli’s patience seemed to have run out.

“The Viking’s Throne is in play. The Viking’s Throne will choose.”

“And how exactly can a throne choose?” asked Berthanelli. “Will it only allow the Chosen One to sit on it?”

Eleonora stood and slowly walked. “Naw… You see the Viking’s Throne –” she pointed at the portrait of Vikings standing on a warship with a huge dragonhead “– is a dragon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun - dun - dun
> 
> I hope you enjoyed that!! :)


	20. Born

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm overwhelmed by the love for Oliver hahaha thanks so much!! Upon starting, my worry was that no one would connect to him because Hermione/Oliver is such a rare pairing, but I'm glad that's turning around.
> 
> Anyway, more Oli for you this chapter and one more dragon to add to the mix. The wait is finally over! Let's go!

The entrance to the Crèche opened and Oliver flew in, directing his broom to the Incubation Ward with Hermione side-saddled in front of him. She was still perspiring and barely conscious, but she was here. Charlie took her from Oliver’s arms and carried her towards the mattress. He casted a quick cooling charm on her then transfigured one of the twigs into a face towel and began to pat her face down. Next to them, Adherion and Nazuri pried their attention from the egg and onto her.

“Hermione?”

The witch struggled to open her eyes.

Nazuri made small purring noises and slowly made his way to the witch. When he could not climb over the mattress, Adherion nudged him up, and he continued to trudge over until he could nuzzle Hermione’s neck and blow small puffs of smoke.

“Whoa…”

Charlie looked up at Oliver who was staring amazed at the scenario. Before Charlie could say anything though, Adherion literally climbed over him to stand beside the Scot.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Oliver with a laugh. “Hullo, mate! Ye’ve groon bigger, havnae ye?” He scratched Adherion on the head and neck and the whelp let out purring sounds, like a gurgling from its throat.

“Hermione, look,” whispered Charlie. “Adherion’s replacing you with the Scot.”

Hermione opened her eyes and smiled. “I knew it. He missed you.”

Oliver smiled down at her, too, his eyes, Charlie noticed, carrying emotion. But before he looked closer, Adherion had nudged his head on Oliver’s chest, making the Quidditch player bend slightly, then the dragon practically jumped on him, making the Scot lose balance and fall on the ground. Then Adherion flopped on top of him.

Oliver and the other dragon keepers could only laugh.

“Is ma brother being devoured?” Adrian asked, having just arrived, behind them.

“Naw,” Oliver answered. “He missed me, is all.”

“Didnae ken ye were close.”

Charlie did not miss the sparkle of intrigue in Avienne’s eyes.

Meanwhile, in the incubator, several sparks issued from the coals and several more cracks appeared on the egg.

“Bunny,” Hermione weakly called, tickling Charlie’s bearded chin to gain his attention.

“Hmm?”

“Sit me up. I want to see the egg.”

Putting Nazuri on Hermione’s lap, Charlie carefully pulled her up and sat behind her so she could lean on him to look at the egg. Behind him, Avienne carefully took Hermione’s hair so she could brush and braid it while asking Oliver what had happened in the Medic Bay. The Scot told them what the healer said.

“Should she be here?” he asked, looking at Charlie, after he finished.

The redhead nodded with certainty. “I can’t explain it right now, but trust me, she will be okay.”

Oliver still looked concerned, but did not comment.

“What are ye doing here, by the way?” Adrian asked.

“Ma insisted a leave the hoose,” Oliver answered.

“Why?”

Oliver gave his brother a meaningful look that the oldest seemed to understand and dropped the subject.

Another cracking sound came again, this time straight down the middle of the egg. Hermione inhaled and exhaled laboriously.

“If Hermione is sharing her life force with the egg as we’ve suspected,” Avienne whispered to Charlie, “do you think in order for the egg to be born… she – she would have to –”

“Don’t.” Charlie faced the silver-haired witch with fire in his eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

“Sharing life force?”

They both turned and found Oliver sitting up and staring at them wide-eyed.

“What d’ye mean Hermione’s sharing life force?”

The other dragon keepers, Adrian especially, were watching them closely. Avienne and Charlie looked at each other, trying to communicate. It was not a question of trust. They knew every single one of these men. However, could they speak about their theories when they themselves had difficulties fully wrapping their minds around it? They have had time. If they divulged all of their theories onto them, it would surely overwhelm.

“It’s difficult to explain,” said Avienne, paying careful attention to Hermione’s braid instead.

“Try.” Oliver’s voice was hard. Charlie could only guess the reason for his concern and he did not know what to feel about it.

Hermione’s hand reached out. “Oli…”

The Scot immediately knelt beside her and Charlie, holding her hand in both of his. “Am here.”

“Don’t get mad, okay?” she said.

“Aboot what?”

Hermione turned to Charlie. “Tell him.”

Charlie nodded at Avienne. He simply could not talk at the moment. An invisible rope was being tightened around his chest.

As the silver-haired witch spoke of the correlation between Hermione’s collapse to the first earthquake in the Wood Estate, as well as Hermione’s grief to the second earthquake and the dragons’ behaviour, Charlie observed those around him, if only to avoid the pair’s holding hands beside him.

Thell, Michan and Memphis kept their faces stoic, having heard this theory even in passing at least once before. Adrian and Oliver, however, had their eyes growing in size with every minute. Adherion, as though sensing the change in atmosphere, crawled to the other side of Oliver and settled himself between him and Hermione. The Opaleye placed his head on Hermione’s lap, and she ran her hand over his head. His tail and body, however, was angled towards Oliver. His eyes as well were constantly seeking out the Scot.

Charlie knew that behaviour. He had seen the clingier version of it in Nazuri. The dragon was seeking Oliver’s attention and craving his presence.

When Avienne finished her explanation of their theories, the entire Ward was silent. Oliver and Adrian not only looked shocked, they looked in disbelief and more than a little frightened.

“This isnae possible,” said Oliver.

Hermione gave a laboured sigh and smiled at him. Charlie did his best to wipe her forehead. “I have a theory,” she said and brought their clasped hands to Nazuri. “Hey, baby, this is Oliver. Oli, this is Nazuri.”

Charlie watched Adherion’s eyes move from Oliver to the newborn and back, and from the back of the dragon’s throat came a short, soft growl. The dragon was in approval.

Meanwhile, the Fireball looked up and sniffed Oliver’s hand before exhaling a puff of grey smoke. Hermione giggled.

“He likes you.”

Of course, that itself was a miracle. But Charlie could not figure out why. Having said that, from the look on Oliver’s face, he had already deciphered it. He was simply having a hard time believing it.

“This is – this isnae possible…”

Hermione took another deep breath and sat up straight, her eyes glued to the egg. “It’s happening.”

Adherion stood to attention and Nazuri quickly stumbled out of Hermione’s lap towards the bigger dragon. Oliver kindly placed him on Adherion’s back.

Several cracks ensued, sounding loud in the quiet room. Charlie manoeuvred himself so that he was kneeling behind Hermione and carefully helped her up. The two of them crowded around the open table-like incubator and waited while the others strained their necks to see.

Soon, one part of the egg fell out. A chunk at the back quickly followed it. Before long, a black-scaled baby dragon emerged with green glowing eyes. The newborn had two ears that sat up on its head along with tendrils that framed its face to the back of its jaw. Black nubs also appeared in a straight line from its snout to its head. As it progressed all the way down its spine, the nubs turned into fin-like tendrils until it reached down its tail fin.

“Oh…” Hermione sighed, drawing closer to the furnace.

The little dragon shook off the remainder of its shell and stretched out its wings. To everyone’s surprise, four wings extended out. Two big wings stretched on either side with another pair of smaller wings underneath.

When the little dragon looked up and saw Hermione, Charlie saw it straighten in attention. And when he shifted his attention on Hermione, Charlie watched her fall in love. He saw her practically melt at the sight of the dragon, watched as a bond formed between the two of them. Hermione’s eyes and smile spoke of love Charlie often saw between his mother and his siblings, especially the first time Molly had held them after giving birth.

He had never seen Hermione looked more beautiful.

Slowly, almost reverently, Hermione picked up the newborn and held him up-close. The tiny little thing held Hermione’s cheek and nuzzled to her, exhaling white smoke from its nostrils towards her in a show of affection.

“Guys…”

Avienne’s voice made them turn and, to Charlie’s surprise, Adherion, with Nazuri on his back, was making his way towards Hermione, eyes trained only on the black dragon.

Hermione knelt down and Adherion, as he had done before, touched his face to the newborn’s who reciprocated in kind. They closed their eyes and shared a breath before they parted. After him, Nazuri climbed down and crawled to Hermione’s knees. She lowered the newborn to the Fireball and watched as Nazuri nuzzled the dragon affectionately before blowing grey smoke towards it. And then Nazuri bowed. Wings spread and pointed down, snout to the ground and both front claws extended down. To their surprise, Adherion did the same, though he did not spread his wings, as his wingspan was the size of the Ward.

The black-scaled dragon let out three small roars, as though acknowledging the two dragons before it. Then it turned back to Hermione and nuzzled on her neck.

The air was thick with magic and every single person present knew something significant had happened. Charlie did not realize he was holding his breath until Nazuri tried to climb the mattress again and failed, plopping to the hard earth instead.

“Can I have a bottle?” Hermione asked in the silence.

In the corner, Avienne was furiously writing things down in her clipboard, so it was Michan that obliged her.

As the newborn suckled, Charlie put his hand on Hermione’s forehead to check her fever. Like he suspected, she was healed.

Memphis ushered Adherion out but the dragon would not listen. Only when Adrian and Oliver left the Ward did he finally go, but even then, the Opaleye was almost purposefully ignoring Memphis. Thell and Michan followed Avienne out; no doubt eager to discuss what had happened, which left Charlie and Hermione alone with the two newborns.

The redhead guided her to the mattress and picked up a now furious Nazuri that was intent on biting the mattress for being bigger than him.

“Quit it,” Charlie told the little Fireball and stroked down his spine until he relaxed enough to let go. “You have a new brother. You’ll have to set an example.”

“Sister,” said Hermione, her eyes seemingly glued to the mysterious dragon. “This one’s a girl.”

“How do you know?” Charlie asked, though he knew it was possibly through the same instinct that told him Nazuri was male.

“I just do.” She swayed the little one slowly.

Nazuri began to protest in Charlie’s arms so he rose to find another bottle for him. Thankfully, this time, he suckled as well and in no time, the two newborns were asleep. Charlie and Hermione placed them in their respective furnaces before stepping back together.

Charlie’s hand once again found its way to Hermione’s forehead. “You’re healed.”

She nodded and gave him a smile, her eyes watering. “The moment she looked at me, I felt the fever leave.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his chest. Charlie responded in kind, pulling her to him and resting his head on top of hers. “Charlie, this is so weird. This is – this is something else and there’s a part of me that is really beginning to freak out.”

“And the other part?”

She sighed and blubbered. Charlie knew she was trying not to cry. “The other part is really excited. We’ve been waiting for this. For months now, since I began working here, this was what we were waiting for. This is what all that research is for. And now, she’s here and…” Hermione sighed again. “Now she’s here and I feel so unprepared. I don’t even know what kind of dragon she is.”

“You aren’t unprepared,” comforted Charlie. “You’ve had five months of preparation. You’ve taken care of Adherion. You’ve watched over Nazuri. That’s knowledge and experience both on a whelp and a newborn.”

“What if she’s different?”

“She’s still a dragon, sweetheart. Taking care of them is what we do.” He ran his fingers up and down her spine, in hopes of helping her calm down. “Besides, you have Avienne and Memphis and Michan here for you.”

Hermione turned her head up to look at him. “And you?”

Charlie smiled. “That goes without saying, Mia.”

She smiled, too. “I thought you only called me that when you were sick.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m trying it out. See if you’ll hex me or not.”

“Mia…” She thought about it then shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

Charlie kissed her temple. “Good. Now we should shower while we have the chance and grab some food. In a few hours, these two will be up and who knows what else will happen.”

Hermione covered her hand over her mouth as she giggled. “We have two newborns, Charlie. _Two_.”

“Yeah. I’m going to send my mother some flowers and a card thanking her for not putting me and my siblings up for adoption.”

***

Oliver rubbed his arms, hoping the goose bumps would leave. He could not wrap his mind around all the things he had heard. If that did not do it, what he witnessed was surely enough to baffle him. A hand clapped his shoulder and Oliver spun around to see his brother with a pot of coffee that he then placed on the table. They had fled to the security of the office, where Adrian had hoped to help calm Oliver.

“Ye ‘right?” Adrian asked and leant on the table.

“Did ye ken this?” Oliver asked back.

“Just noo. They’ve kept it under lock and key. Caine didnae want anyone ootside af their team informed.”

“But ye were doin’ research, right?”

“When am nae taking care af other dragons, aye, but it was research aboot the egg. Aboot possible breeds. How was a supposed tae ken tha’ –”

“That the egg is the dragon we’d been hearing aboot since we were kids?” Oliver sighed and began to pace. “A was just telling Hermione about Solveig before Vienne called us.”

“So she knoos?”

“She may have put the pieces together, aye.”

Adrian poured them both coffee and sat down. “Dae ye think ma knoos?”

“She was the wan who convinced mae tae come here tadae. So aye, she does.”

Adrian ran a hand over his face. “Dae ye think her episodes has anything tae dae with –” he gestured towards the cave pockets through the clear glass wall “– all this?”

“She’d been having ‘em fer nearly two years. The earthquake only happened a few months ago. It disnae seem likely.”

Adrian watched his little brother for a while before ushering him to a chair and pouring him a cup.

Oliver complied. This was too much. He had a portkey to take in a few hours and a game to play tomorrow. He had to leave. Then again, if he left without seeing how Hermione was doing, he knew he would be worst off.

“Dae we tell ‘em what we ken?” Oliver asked.

Adrian nodded. “We present it as a _theory_ , and right noo, tha’ is all it is. We need tae research every single possibility because, let’s face it, the chances af this being wrong is bigger than the chances af this being right. There hasnae been a Queen Rider fer centuries. We have tae be sure. Naw point in worrying Hermione and Charlie.”

At the sound of his former Quidditch Captain’s name, Oliver froze. _Hermione and Charlie_. He looked outside in time to see the two enter the locker room and it was like a stab in his heart. Obviously, Charlie had a connection to the dragons as well. Was Oliver wrong in his theory? Or was he simply missing information? Who was the Eirik to Hermione’s Solveig?

From outside the pit, Adherion seemed to be causing Memphis problems once again. The Opaleye was growling and screeching and kept looking through the glass. Meanwhile, Memphis was trying to pull Adherion towards the pit.

He was up on his feet and running out to the whelp before Oliver knew what he was doing. “Stop, stop, stop!” He held his hands out to the dragon keepers.

Adherion took advantage of their momentary distraction and bound over to Oliver, nuzzling his chest with his face. Oliver immediately began to scratch him and pet him.

“It’s a’right, lad. Yer a’right,” he murmured to the dragon. “Yer just energized, aren’t ye? Just excited? Maybe a wee bit hungry?”

The Opaleye emitted guttural purring noises and began to playfully bump him.

“Aye, tha’s right.” Oliver leaned his weight on the dragon, nudging him as well. “Shall we, then?”

He ran and jumped down the pit and Adherion gladly followed him. Oliver pushed the whelp’s head up so he could scratch his neck. The Opaleye countered by pushing Oliver away playfully and jumped about, spreading his wings and shutting it. Oliver tried to find a way to scratch his neck, but the whelp did his best to avoid him.

For a while, they moved around together, playing and wrestling when Oliver finally caught an opening. The dragon emitted short, soft growls as well as snorts, which sounded to Oliver like laughter, and he could not help but laugh along.

It was not until he became aware that five dragon keepers were watching him that Oliver finally paused, his arm around Adherion’s neck and looked up at their bewildered faces. “What?”

“Well, this is new,” said Memphis up by the railing. Beside him, Avienne’s stylus was flying across her clipboard in great speed.

“Maybe you can convince him to eat something,” said Michan and lowered a basket full of meat down in the pit with his wand.

Oliver looked at Adherion. “Hungry?”

Multi-coloured eyes looked up at him as though waiting for his permission.

Taking out his wand, Oliver made the basket tip over and watched the pearly white dragon run to it and feast. The Scot took the opportunity to jump up the pit and sit on the railing, dusting his jeans as he did.

Adrian clapped his shoulder. “Proud af ye.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Adherion’s very moody,” said Thell. “He has been since he hatched. There were times he wouldn’t even let us touch him.”

“He’s only ever nice to Charlie and Hermione,” said Michan, “and that’s just because the dragons are connected to Hermione.”

Oliver looked over and found purple eyes staring intently at him. Avienne was studying him and did not bother to look away when he caught her. Oliver was unsure if that was a good sign.

She leant to Memphis and whispered something before dragging the dark-skinned dragon keeper away, presumably so they could talk about it in length. Yes, definitely not a good sign.

***

The snow was falling outside and Hermione appreciated its beauty as she served her brother with a red velvet lava cake one Saturday afternoon. Harry had decided to visit her and she picked him up from Central when he came, as the building trapped visitors in unless escorted by an employee of the Reserve, and the floo connection in their cottages were limited to places outside of the Reserve unless previously arranged, and even then a time limit was set until it closed. Currently, they were sitting in her living room two weeks before Christmas.

Harry, his messy black hair in a bun, was looking at a painting by the bay window that Hermione was working on of the newborn dragon. “What’s she like?”

“Sweet and regal,” said Hermione, tucking her feet up the couch. “Not as clingy or mischievous as Nazuri, which is a relief. Whether or not that changes any time soon is still in the air.”

Harry chuckled and sat beside her. “I’m glad. Do you know what breed she is yet?”

Hermione bit her lip.

After the dragon was born, she, Oliver and the other dragon keepers spent the entire night to the early morning discussing the possible connections and various theories they have had so far. One of the most prominent theories was the one that the Wood brothers presented, which was that of the Viking's Throne, which sounded familiar to Hermione though she could not remember where she heard or read it from. Though seeming likely, since the connection between dragon and witch was phenomenal not only in timing but both physically and emotionally, the implications were not something Hermione wanted to take lightly. If this new dragon was indeed from the old dragon breed, it would mean that she was the chosen bond of said dragon, the Solveig to the Viking’s Throne, and that was just problematic, wasn’t it? Hermione did not even know where to begin with it.

“Hermione?” called Harry, his eyebrow arched and his spoonful of lava cake poised in mid-air. “You spaced out for a while there.”

“Sorry.” Hermione shook her head. “It’s a lot to process at the moment. We’re still on the theory stage, still researching, and I’d rather make sure than –”

“Jump into conclusions that prove false or otherwise inconclusive,” Harry finished for her with a nod of his head and ate his cake with a moan. “Oh, this is gooood.”

Appreciation and love for her brother grew in Hermione’s heart. If this dragon turned out to be _the_ dragon, Hermione would not want to hide it from him. They had been through too much together to start with secrets now.

“Do you have any plans for Christmas?” asked Harry.

“I planned on spending it here,” said Hermione, scraping the ice cream on top and eating it.

Harry sighed. “Is it because of Ron and the Weasleys?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, it’s not.”

Her brother’s emerald green eyes fixed her with a condescending stare and a raised eyebrow. Hermione threw a pillow at his face.

“It isn’t! Look, we have two needy newborns and, well, Charlie has to go, of course, which means I have to stay.”

“Did you discuss that with Charlie?”

“It’s his family.”

“And yours!”

Hermione sighed. “Okay, maybe I am not fully ready to see Ron again.”

Harry placed his empty plate on the centre table and asked, without putting pressure on Hermione, “When do you think you’ll be ready?”

She thought about it. “When I don’t feel like running away and crawling into a deep, dark pit just at the _thought_ of seeing him again?” She sighed. “Sometimes… Sometimes all I can think about is how I’m not good enough every time he passes through my mind that they’ve somewhat become synonymous with each other. And I want to say I’ve at least become numbed to this, but every time I see his picture kissing another woman’s shoulder or her neck or her hand… I just die a little inside still. And I don’t think I’m over it.”

Harry nodded his understanding. Ron and Hermione’s relationship went beyond the months they spent together as official boyfriend and girlfriend. It had also been all those years building up to it. “You know, I think if you two ended on your terms, in any other way than what Ron had done, things might have gone differently.”

Hermione nodded her agreement. “But we didn’t. And him cheating on me at my lowest points and him… and him not being able to accept me… it’s just…”

“Affected the very foundation of your friendship, I know.” Harry collected her in his arms and squeezed her tight.

Hermione sighed. She wanted this freedom, but somehow, it just did not feel complete. She was out of the relationship, but there was still a part of her that could not fully shake it off. And Hermione wanted to pinpoint what it was so she could finally know true freedom.

As though he knew what she was thinking, which was probably true, Harry whispered to her, “It’ll come, sis. It’ll come.”

The moment was broken by a loud screech outside. Hermione and Harry immediately parted, hearts pounding, and she ran out to the terrace, to hell with the cold.

The Norwegian Ridgeback flew overhead towards the direction of the south-western mountains. However, that was not the reason why Hermione became alarmed. To the north-east, the Antipodean Opaleye was flying as well, to the direction of the south-western mountains. The Common Welsh Green from the north-west was also flying –

“HARRY!” Hermione turned back to her brother. “Please tell me you have a broom.”

Harry was stood at the threshold, fishing his shrunken broom from his pocket.

“We need to go to the Crèche right now!”

The Firebolt was enlarged to its normal size with Harry jumping on it within a second. Hermione mounted behind him and pointed him to the direction where the dragons were flying. He sped through without another word. Within another second, Hermione had her wand out and in mid-air yelled, “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” Her lovely otter came to view.

“The dragons are converging! Go to the Crèche right now!”

She then sent it to the direction of the cottages they had long left behind.

Harry flew through the air in great speed that they had flown past the Opaleye and the Ridgeback both and managed to get to the Crèche before them. The entrance was opened with Caine and Avienne at the crevice. As soon as Harry slowed down, Hermione jumped off the broom.

“The dragons are coming this way!” she shouted.

“How do you – oh, Merlin,” said Caine, his eyes widening as he looked to the horizon. “Everybody inside!”

Not needing to be told twice, everyone rushed in and Caine waved his wand in motions that were unfamiliar to Hermione. The entrance sealed itself like one rock-face without crack. However, Hermione felt the chilly air still and turned around to find the entrance to the Bay wide open with Adherion, Nazuri and the still unnamed black dragon playing on the slanted earth.

Instinct kicked in and Hermione broke out in a run passing Memphis, Charlie and Adrian on her way. Protect the dragons. She had to protect the dragons.

“Hermione?”

“What is going on?”

Just as she ran down the steps of the Bay, a massive shadow loomed down on her to the right and the Ridgeback roared into the air. The strength of it was enough to make Hermione fall on her side. When she looked up, the Welsh Green made an appearance with its young, both clinging on the side of the tall trees opposite the open Bay. The Opaleye filled the other side of the Bay entrance with the Horntail and its young behind her. Meanwhile the Ironbelly Hermione had never seen on this Reserve was perched on one of the trees as well, as the Welsh Greens were.

Five fully matured dragons and two adolescents. Seven pairs of eyes looking down at them on the Bay. How the hell was Hermione going to help the little ones?

“HERMIONE!”

Charlie and Harry’s voices melded into one, full of concern and worry. But at that moment, the black-scaled dragon looked up and looked at her, too. The dragon tilted her head, seeming to register Hermione’s fear and quickly made her way towards the witch.

Once Hermione caught the little thing in her arms and looked into those bright green eyes, her fears melted away. The dragons meant no harm. She did not know _how_ she knew it, but she was as certain of the fact as she was of her name.

Hermione held her hand up towards the dragon keepers and her brother signalling for them to stop. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice calm. And together with the newborn, Hermione faced the gigantic beasts at the rock entrance of the Bay.

When she and the newborn looked up, the dragons began to bow their heads. The Opaleye and the two Welsh Greens all spread their wings to the side and dipped their heads low with their front claws extending forwards. Meanwhile, wyverns like the two Horntails, the Ironbelly and the Ridgeback all spread their wings upward and dipped their heads low. Beside Hermione, Nazuri and Adherion both bowed again.

The black-scaled newborn roared her tiny roar three times in acknowledgement to the dragons and wyverns before her, standing straight like a royal queen addressing her people.

All around her, Hermione felt the magic of earth, wind and sky swirl until it felt like the air would cackle with electricity.

With a great big gust, the Ironbelly leapt to the air and screeched, swirling as it flew higher, and blew out fire as it went. The result was a cylindrical flame that lit up the sky.

The musical roars of the Welsh Green mother and her young pierced the air next as the two leapt out of the trees and into the air. Their roars continued like a song even as the Horntails both flew up, blowing up orange-hot flames, and flying in circles and gliding in the air like acrobats.

The Ridgeback eyed Hermione and the newborn once more before inclining its head to both and letting out a fierce roar. With two mighty flaps of its wings, the great beast was up in the air.

Lucile was the only one to enter the Bay once the other dragons had left. Affectionately, she carefully brought her snout closer to the newborn and Hermione. Understanding her, Hermione placed one hand on her snout and leaned her forehead and nose towards the dragon. The black-scaled newborn in her arm did the same. When they parted, Lucile blew smoke through her nostrils at the two and nudged Adherion before leaving with him, blowing red-hot flames in circles in the air as she did.

Once they had gone and the magic around them had settled, Hermione looked up and met Charlie’s gaze. Heart pounding in her chest, she knew, their newborn _might_ just be the Viking’s Throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news and bad news.
> 
> Good news: we've had so much update and content this week. Yay!!!
> 
> Bad news: I won't be able to update and upload until the second week of Feb. *hides under desk* Sorry...
> 
> I promise though, for the next chapters, there will be more Hermione/Charlie and Hermione/Oliver from here on out. But until then, thank you so much for the love and support and for following my first fanfic.
> 
> Take care and I'll see you next, next week :)
> 
> \- BlueBlade77


	21. Lumi!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaaaacccckkkkkk
> 
> Hello, people! Thank you very much for your patience. I won't let you wait any further. Let's jump right in!
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> None of the songs I used are mine. They belong to thier own singers, writers, producers and studios. Harry Potter universe does not belong to me as well.
> 
> "Ob...viously..." - Snape, Order of the Phoenix

A high-pitched screech followed by a whimpering sound caught Hermione’s attention from her writing. Leaving the desk she had transfigured, she made her way to the furnace, which had been left open like a concave bowl filled with coals, where the black-scaled dragon lay.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hermione soothed. “It was just a nightmare, sweetie. It’s all – oh…”

To her surprise, there were changes to the newborn dragon’s scales. The once all black had transitioned into an indigo. And where the newborn’s belly was, the edges of the scales had turned yellow-orange. As a result, her scales looked like the setting sun slowly turning into the indigo sky and finally into midnight.

“Oh, you look beautiful, my sweet,” said Hermione, picking up the little one. It still fascinated Hermione, not only that she was picking up a dragon, but that she could do it straight from the live coals of the furnace without feeling much heat. However, a few incidents have trained them to heatproof their cloths, unless they wanted to acquire new burn holes into one.

The dragon emitted a high-pitched screech again and whimpered, her claws reaching out for Hermione. It was heart breaking, yet Hermione could not help to think it was a little cute. Pulling the little thing to her chest, Hermione allowed her to nuzzle and find comfort while she waved her wand and made her milk to drink. With a flick, the bottle of brandy and chicken blood mixture shook itself. However, before she could summon it to her, Hermione noticed a glow. When she looked down, she saw a bright light on the dragon’s nubs and fins all the way down her tailfin. The tips and ends of her wings also glowed.

Quickly recovering from her shock, Hermione quickly tapped her wand on the newborn then tapped a page on her journal with a whispered, “ _Adumbro._ ” An exact and coloured drawing of the newborn appeared. “Sweetie, how are you doing this?”

The newborn whimpered again and Hermione embraced her to give comfort and swayed her slowly.

_Baby mine, don’t you cry_

_Baby mine, dry your eyes_

_Rest your head close to my heart_

_Never to part, baby of mine_

_Little one when you play_

_Don’t you mind what they say_

_Let those eyes sparkle and shine_

_Never a tear, baby of mine_

As she continued with the song her mother used to sing to her, Hermione could not help but reminisce. She first watched the cartoon Dumbo when she was four years old and absolutely loved it. As she grew older, the more she could relate to being an outcast, to being made fun of because she was different and none of her classmates could understand. Jean, her mother, used to sing this to her whenever she would come home after being bullied or made to feel less than. And now, as Hermione sang it to her frightened newborn, she could not help but remember her mother’s voice and all those times that despite being made to feel unwelcomed or insecure or less than, she felt loved and accepted and cherished.

Hermione repeated the song once again, tears streaming down her face. If only her mother were here now, maybe she would sing her version of this song to Hermione again. Maybe she would let her baby girl feel accepted and not lacking. Maybe she would let her baby girl know that it was all right to be afraid and to move forward in life because it was okay to feel proud of who she was. And it was okay to not be perfect and to be different.

_If they knew all about you_

_They’d end up loving you, too_

_All those same people who scold you_

_What they’d give just for the right to hold you_

_From your head down to your toes_

_You’re so sweet, goodness knows_

_You are so precious to me_

_Cute as can be, baby of mine_

In the silence that followed, Hermione breathed in deeply. The little dragon was once again asleep and to her surprise, she was feeling just a bit better.

A rough thumb wiped her tears and as her blurry vision gave way to clarity, she saw Charlie’s concerned blue eyes looking at her. She smiled to assure him and found that she did not need to fake it.

“You’re here early,” she whispered.

“It’s already half-past six,” he replied. “I’ve brought you some coffee.”

Hermione nodded and slowly laid the sleeping newborn back into her furnace. “I want to show you something,” she told Charlie and presented him the journal. “She woke up and began to cry and all of a sudden, she was glowing – her wings, her fins. When I sang to her, she calmed down enough to go back to normal and stop glowing. And look.” She pointed at the scales of the dragon in her journal to that of the actual dragon in the furnace. “Her scales changed, too.”

Charlie’s eyebrows were threatening never to come down from his hairline. “This is – this is _fascinating_. I’ve never seen a dragon like her. The Fireball’s scales grow darker as they grow older, so Nazuri’s red scales will inevitably turn scarlet and then maroon as he matures, but to change colour like she is doing… I’ve never encountered that.”

“And what was that glow?” asked Hermione. “It was bright, Charlie, brighter than a ‘ _lumos_ ’. It was like a – like a bluish-white glow.”

Charlie huffed. “We really need to go to that library Adrian’s talking about.”

“Merlin, I’d love that.” Hermione drank her coffee and sat back down. She wrote down on her journal everything that had just happened and tried to put as much detail as she could.

“Why were you crying, anyway?” asked Charlie. He had apparently conjured the mattress they were using before and was now stretched across it with his arms behind his head.

Hermione shrugged a shoulder. “She was so scared and I felt all of my fears and insecurities, too. My mother used to sing that song to me, so I imagined her comforting me as I comforted the little one.”

Charlie smiled.

Hermione noticed he was only wearing his t-shirt today. “Did you run out of flannels?”

He chuckled. “No, Avienne tripped in the kitchen and spilled milk all over it. She’s gone to clean it up.”

“She’s not very alert in the morning.”

“No, she isn’t. Why she insists on taking the early morning shift, I do not know.”

“You’re on the same schedule as Thell this week and he’s working on our friendly neighbourhood Horntails.”

“Oh… Are they getting back together?”

“Not yet, but I have a ten-galleon bet going with Raphael that they’ll be together by Christmas.”

Charlie chuckled again. “The twins are not a good influence on you.”

“Say what you want, but at least, I get to have fun now whilst earning a few galleons.”

Charlie shook his head in amusement but left it alone.

From the edges of his shirtsleeve, Hermione could see the Fireball winding down his bicep, flipping its tail about. Curiosity got the better of her and she asked him what was it with him and Fireballs? “I mean, your patronus is a Fireball, your tattoo, our newborn dragon that’s obsessed with you, and, well, _Rory_ , for Morgana’s sake.”

“You just had to bring up Rory, didn’t you?”

“Sorry, not Rory… Rory- _bunny_.”

Charlie looked at her with a disgruntled face she could not help but be amused by. “Well, if you must know, I took this Fireball –” he flexed his muscled arm “– as a tribute.”

“To Rory-bunny?”

“No not to Rory – urgh. No, I got it as a tribute to the whelp we lost in Romania.” The two of them sobered immediately. Charlie sighed. “Poachers managed to sneak into the Sanctuary through a dragon keeper who was fed love potion by one of them. They went to the _creşă_ , which is their version of the Crèche. Romania’s a bigger sanctuary than we are so we had quite a few dragons there and in turn a few more eggs, whelps and newborns. Poachers saw them as easy targets, plus they have big value in the black market.

“That night, I was on my way home after my shift ended around midnight when the alarm blared. No one could apparate in and out, which was both helpful and an inconvenience. By the time I got there, two poachers were dragging this Stunned six-month-old Fireball out by its tail and wings. I fought them, managed to bind one, but the other called for back up. Avienne was actually the one who came to help me.

“The Fireball began to stir and he was hurt and scared and confused. But he recognized me. He started to make his way to me, knowing he’d be safe, but one of the poachers got his tail and started to pull him. When he turned to them, another poacher came up from behind and tried to muzzle him. He blew out fire and accidentally got me, too. But they stabbed him with a dagger to make him stop. They ran out after cutting off his tail.”

Hermione made her way to the mattress and hugged Charlie’s chest as she sat beside him. “I’m so sorry, Charlie. That was awful.”

Charlie ran his fingers up and down her spine. “It was a long time ago. I’ve made my peace with it, though it took a long time.”

Hermione placed her chin on his chest. “Tell me.”

“Well, Avienne did a good job pulling me to the Sanctuary hospital that they were able to fix me. But every time I looked at my arm, the lines and swirls of dragon fire just reminded me that I couldn’t save him, this whelp who was close to me. I couldn’t protect him. It wasn’t enough. I failed him…”

Hermione laid her head on his chest again and ran her fingers up and down his bicep, where the Fireball tattooed there craned its neck and belly to her touch. That reasoning sounded familiar to her.

“Avienne talked to me every day, made sure I didn’t blame myself, showed me I did what I could. I could not stop what happened, but not because I stood idly by. I fought and I was burnt, but I did what I could. We lost the Fireball, but not because of my inaction, but because of the destructive nature of others. She helped me process that I could never override another person’s will and decisions. I could not always stop another person’s malicious actions. But the fact that I fought was enough.

“When I processed that, it became easier for me to look at my scars. But I wanted to do more, so I got this tattoo to commemorate Sorin.”

Hermione nodded. It was a difficult situation and a heavy burden to bear. She saw it in Harry with every disaster caused by Voldemort. He blamed himself for Arthur’s attack, for Sirius’ so-called kidnapping and torture, then his death. He blamed himself for Hermione’s every injury since they were eleven, for Godric’s sake. And then, there was Ron, who blamed himself as well, like Charlie, for not being able to save someone they cared about.

She knew Charlie was talking to Ron. She knew he was talking to Harry as well. He comforted them the same way he comforted her and he shared his wisdom to them just like he did to her. He was there for them in every way he knew how. So it was not for lack of trying. Avienne’s words echoed in her mind.

“ _It’s_ Ron _who could not deal with your scars. It’s_ Ron _who could not accept them and, by extension, you. It’s_ Ron _who made you feel inadequate and lacking. It’s_ Ron _who showed disdain for those who hurt you and projected them on you. It’s_ Ron _who piled and blamed all his awful feelings out on you. This is_ not _your fault._ Ron _was the one who cheated.”_

She and Charlie were right. Hermione could not stop what Ron thought of her. She could only do what she could and move on. With Charlie’s heartbeat steadily drumming under her ears, Hermione drifted off to sleep.

When Hermione came back to consciousness, it was to the sound of someone chewing something crunchy. Opening her eyes, she saw a bouquet of flowers sitting on the ground beside the mattress. And currently, it was moving. Sitting bolt upright with Charlie’s flannel draped around her, Hermione saw two bouquets side by side and one black finned tail deep in one of them. Hermione pried the newborn from the bouquet with both hands and found her still chewing and trying to grasp more of the falling petals via her waving claws.

“Seriously?” Hermione asked the little thing, but she simply continued to chew. Hermione perched her down on the mattress by her legs. Thankfully, the little newborn seemed to only have made her way through one of the bouquets and the cards were still intact.

Hermione first reached for card of the uneaten bouquet and opened it.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope you’re well. With the stress and uncertainty, I know things can get tough, but I hope you’ll always find the time to take care of yourself._

_I’m not sure what plans you have, but I was hoping you’d indulge me. We have a game on the 23 rd of December. If you have time, I’d love for you to be able to watch. It’d be nice to see you again, maybe even catch up before Christmas? Do you think you’d be able to make it?_

_Please take care of yourself._

_Oliver_

Hermione found herself smiling and clutching the note to her heart. She could not identify which flowers were which, except for the yellow tulips, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.

Turning to the other eaten bouquet, Hermione picked up the card and read.

_Dear Mione,_

_I know I’ve done you wrong. I tried writing you letters, but you never replied. I even tried visiting you in the Reserve, but I’m blocked. I don’t know what else to say other than I’m sorry. You’ve trusted me and I’ve hurt you. I know I can never take that back, but I can try to be better, if you’ll give me another chance. That’s all I’m asking, Mione, one more chance. I swear I won’t screw this up. Please._

_Yours,_

_Ron_

_Crunch, crunch, crunch._

Hermione looked down to find the little dragon chomping on the bouquet again. “You have got to be kidding me!” Hermione lifted her up by her tail. The little thing managed to grab an orchid and quickly stuffed it in her mouth. When Hermione tried to pry it from her, the cheeky newborn closed her wings on herself, blocking Hermione’s hand. “Oh, real mature. How do you keep on doing this?”

_Crunch, crunch, crunch._

“What is going on in here?” asked Avienne as she came in.

“This little beast ate one of the bouquets,” said Hermione, poking the cocooned dragon.

_Crunch, crunch, crunch._

“My, my, someone’s trying to apologize.”

“What? I am not. This is all her,” said Hermione.

“Not you, stupid. The bouquet.” Avienne pointed at the one the newborn had decimated. “Those are blue hyacinths. They’re pretty much the general ‘I’m sorry’ flowers. White orchids are associated with sincerity, which means they’re saying, ‘I’m sorry and I actually mean it’. And then we have pink carnations. They mean, ‘I’ll never forget you’.”

“Huh. Makes sense.” Hermione waved the second card. “It’s from Ron. He said he’s asking for another chance.”

The little dragon peaked her head from her wings and sneezed on the note, setting it on fire.

“Oh, come on!” Hermione dropped the card on the ground and pointed her wand at it. “ _Aguamenti!_ ”

Meanwhile, Avienne was clutching her stomach as she laughed. The little dragon was also issuing some snorts and soft growls, which means she was laughing, too. Soon, even Hermione was chuckling as she set the little dragon to rights and sat her down on the mattress.

“What about this?” Hermione asked, motioning to the other bouquet. “Do you know what this means?”

Avienne looked at it thoughtfully. “Azalea flowers – meaning ‘take care of yourself’. Light red carnations for ‘admiration’ and yellow tulips, which say ‘there’s a sunshine in your smile’. It’s also associated with cheerfulness and hope.” The purple-eyed witch sent her a sly smile. “Honey, someone likes you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s from Oliver.”

“Oohhh…”

“Oh, shut up. He’s just inviting me to one of his games before Christmas, maybe even catch up.”

“Isn’t that one just code for a… what’s that word again? Oh right, a date?”

Hermione rolled her eyes again, though she had a smile on her face. “Not a date. He just knows it’s been crazy lately. He’s a good friend.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, sure, sure, sure. Charlie said you wanted to tell me something?”

Hermione tilted her head and then remembered what happened earlier that morning. “Oh!” She told Avienne of all of it, showing her the drawing on her journal as well.

“And it was just gone after?” Avienne asked, making Hermione nod. She furiously wrote it down on her clipboard. “Okay, here’s the plan. Come the New Year, Adrian gave us the go ahead to visit his family estate and we will be able to do research there. He will have to go back home to prepare the library or something during the holidays. Apparently, they have quite the extensive archive over there as well of all Viking related lore; his mother’s a bit of a historian. So hopefully, they will have answers for us.”

Hermione hoped so, too.

“She’s going for Oliver’s bouquet.”

Hermione looked down in time to see the little dragon dive onto Oliver’s bouquet. To their surprise, however, the newborn was not eating it, but was wiggling her tiny body over the flowers.

“I think she likes it,” said Hermione. “Do you like that, sweetie?”

Grunts and delighted purring sounds came from the little dragon, making Hermione smile and she wondered what to call the cheeky little thing. Tickling the dragon’s stomach, she remembered the changing of her scales and the glow that emerged from her fins and wingtips.

“Lumen,” Hermione whispered.

“Hmm?” Avienne barely looked up from her writing.

“Lumen is a measure of light, I think. I remember reading about it in one of my dad’s books. It’s also the Latin for light.” She traced the fins of the small dragon now lying content among the flowers as she thought out loud. “Lumen… Lumen… Luminary, meaning leading light or inspiration or leader… Lumena… Luminaria… Hmm, could work.” She looked down at the tiny dragon. “Luminaria.”

The dragon looked up at her with wide, adorable eyes.

“Do you like that name? Luminaria?”

The dragon jumped up and flapped her wings about. Hermione looked fondly on with a smile.

“All right, that’s your name from now on. Luminaria.”

The newborn seemed to like it and to prove it, she sneezed twice more at the bouquet Ron gave and looked proud of herself when it burst into flames.

***

The morning of the twenty-third of December, Hermione had finished her shower and climbed up the stairs to her bedroom. As she looked through her closet, she rolled her eyes at the stupid decision she had made not to buy any long sleeves because it snowed last night and she could still see several inches of it from the glass door to her terrace. So what the hell was she to do now?

Sighing, Hermione looked at a pile of her old clothes where most of her long sleeves were. A frown formed on her face; she really did not want to go back to wearing those. With a roll of the eyes, Hermione picked up a black fitted off-shoulder three-quarter sleeve shirt as well as a navy blue knitted sweater. She picked up one of her stockings, a garter belt and then a pair of socks and jeans.

First, she wore her lacy bra, garter belt and knickers. Then she shimmied into her stockings before connecting them to the belt. Lastly, she wore her off-shoulders, jeans, sweater and socks. She was going to feel sexy, damn it, even if it was just her little secret.

Hermione brushed her hair until it was shiny and put a blue knitted beanie on. Just as she finished, she heard a light thud that came from downstairs. She waited to hear the sound again, but nothing came. Still, there was something faint in the back of her mind that was calling out to her. It was cold. She was registering the cold.

Going downstairs, Hermione looked about her home, but nothing seemed amiss. Ready to dismiss it, she happened to glance out of her glass door when she saw a patch of snow outside steaming. She looked closely. There was a light coming from the hollowed patch of snow. Something seemed to have fallen into it and – a black tail fin flicked up.

“Lumi!”

Hermione quickly opened the door and walked through the snow that almost reached her knees until she found the spot where the black-scaled dragon sat. Her fins and wingtips were glowing, presumably to provide her with heat. Hermione picked her up and rushed the two of them back in the house.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing, young lady?” she scolded.

Luminaria sneezed and white puffs of smoke came out.

“How in the world did you even get here?”

From the distance, a dragon screeched.

Hermione looked at the tiny dragon in her hands with an impassive expression. “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

Only a few days ago, Hermione learnt that Luminaria had the ability to communicate with the other dragons more effectively than normal. Though Nazuri and Adherion had been together for longer, Luminaria seemed to be able to get through the two of them more efficiently and successfully than they could with each other. Memphis witnessed the first account.

One afternoon, Nazuri was playing on the ground at the Incubation Ward and he was getting moody and hungry. He was nudging Charlie, who fell asleep on the mattress, but could only reach his hand. The little dragon tried jumping on his hand and biting his cuffs and wiggling it, but still Charlie was asleep. Memphis did not do anything to see what the little red tyke was going to do. That was when Luminaria started to give a soft roaring call from where she lay on her furnace. Nazuri turned his head, seemingly listening and when Luminaria was finished, he climbed up Charlie’s arm and made his way to Charlie’s chest before jumping as hard as he could on Charlie’s stomach. That woke him up. That and Memphis’ roaring laughter. Since then, that was how Nazuri would wake his dragon keeper whenever he fell asleep.

The other account, Hermione witnessed for herself when she and Luminaria watched Memphis and Avienne do Adherion’s check-up. Michan had come in with a scone in preparation of the change of shifts. Luminaria started with a soft roaring call as well, which turned to soft growls. The next time Avienne bent low to write on her clipboard, Adherion had used her back to launch a jump on Michan, hit the keeper’s hand with his snout thereby making him let go of the scone, which Luminaria then dove off of Hermione’s arms to procure.

“Did you tell another dragon to drop you here?” Hermione presently asked the tiny dragon. “Well, did you?”

Luminaria had the grace to look ashamed.

Hermione scoffed. “I told you, miss, I’m doing something else today and I cannot bring you.”

Luminaria whined. Was it possible for dragons to do the puppy eyes? Because it seemed like that was what she was going for.

With a sigh, Hermione brought the little dragon up her bedroom, put her on her bed and told her to behave while she dried herself with a wave of her wand and finished dressing. She picked up a quilted parka and heard Luminaria growl.

“What? Fashion advice from a dragon who dove into a foot of snow?”

Luminaria continued to growl. Hermione put the parka back and picked up a knee-length wrap coat instead. After putting on her knee-high boots and no longer earning any more growls, Hermione picked up Luminaria and her beaded bag and went on her way.

Outside, Avienne was waiting for her on the porch, broom at the ready.

“Um, why is she with you?” the silver-haired witch asked in lieu of greeting. “And why is she glowing?”

“Because she apparently convinced another dragon to literally drop her off outside my terrace and onto a foot of snow.”

Avienne laughed out loud. “Oh, Salazar! She’s definitely one of a kind!”

Hermione shook her head and conjured her patronus. When the otter came up, Luminaria jumped off in hopes of being able to touch it. Thank goodness Hermione caught her. “Lumi, for Godric’s sake!” She looked at her otter. “Charlie, I’ve got Lumi with me. She fell onto my terrace. I don’t know which dragon she talked to. Meet us in Central.”

Mounting the broom, Avienne and Hermione, with Luminaria securely tucked in her coat, flew away.

A new problem presented itself while they were in the air. The newborn kept trying to climb Avienne’s back and after the third attempt, Hermione allowed her, though kept a firm hold. Luminaria wisely wrapped her tail around Hermione’s wrist for more security, which somewhat pacified the witch. When she was finally perched, the little dragon experimented on opening one wing just to feel the wind go through it. She emitted excited screeches and nuzzled onto Hermione’s cheek that Hermione could not help but smile.

When they soon landed in Central, Luminaria gave a disappointed hum but did not protest further to Hermione’s relief. They met with Charlie by the stairs.

“Okay, how in the world did she manage to get to your place?” asked Charlie upon their entrance.

After she told him everything, Charlie paused for a while and then burst out laughing.

“She’s is very much your dragon! I knew it!”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Didn’t you jump off a dragon as well?”

“Yeah, but –”

“Didn’t you sneak out of a very secure facility via said dragon?”

“Yes, but –”

“She’s your dragon.” He looked quite smug.

“Whatever. Can you just take her, please?”

Charlie took the newborn and held her close to his face. “Mummy's grumpy today,” he whispered conspiringly. Luminaria had the nerve to screech her agreement.

Hermione rolled her eyes then seriously regarded the little tyke. “You behave for your dada, you understand? I’ll be back before you know it.”

Luminaria nuzzled at Charlie’s chest and yawned.

“Good luck with her,” she told him.

“And you –” Avienne turned her around. “Good luck with your date.”

“It’s not a date.”

“He invited you and only you. It’s a date.” The silver-haired witch kissed her cheek before pushing her towards the row of fireplaces. “Good luck!”

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. Just before she vanished through the flames, Hermione saw a look on Charlie’s face. She had no time to determine what it was, however, as she was already spinning and then emerging out of the Quidditch Stadium in Wales.

Witches and wizards of every age from all over Britain were pouring into the stadium. Some of them had paint on their faces of their team’s colours, while others wore jerseys of their favourite players. There were foam fingers, omnioculars and stuffed animals of their team’s mascots. Hermione saw all these and felt a little out of her depth. She did not really know this game by heart, though she did quiz Charlie and the boys back at the Reserve the day Oliver sent her the invitation. After watching Harry play all these years, she did have an idea, too, but, well, she was never really into sports. What if she was making a mistake? This really was not wise, was it? But she had already told Oliver she would come. What could she possibly tell him if she left? She did not want to lie, so…

A shop caught Hermione’s eye and she made her way there. Merchandise for Puddlemere United and Tutshill Tornados filled the store. Hermione made a beeline for the scarves and bought herself one as well as the omnioculars that she had used before during the World Cup. At least, these would help her fit in better, right?

Showing her ticket to the witch at the booth, Hermione was shown the stairs and she climbed it to the very top box. She breathed out her nerves and opened the door. To her surprise, she was not alone.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Gryffindor Princess.”


	22. The Non-Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, here is the anticipated, long-time-coming non-date date! Enjoy and thank you for the comments and kudos. You're all amazing! :) 
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> The songs used in this story are not my own. They belong to their own singers, writers, producers and studios.
> 
> Except for that one song. That one’s mine. :)

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Gryffindor Princess.”

Of all the people in the whole wide world, it just had to be Cormac McLaggen. For a moment, Hermione wondered if she called her dragons, would they come?

“McLaggen,” she said. “It’s been a while.”

“It has, yes.” He puffed out his chest and took a champagne flute from a passing elf. “I’m sorry about the er… Engagement? Wedding? Being cancelled? Has it already happened?”

“There was neither an engagement or a wedding to cancel.”

“Oh, couldn’t get him to propose?”

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead looked around the box as McLaggen moved on to his favourite topic: himself. He regaled her of his success at the ministry and his family being connected and all. He kept gesturing to four more men at the bar. From his tone, Hermione could only guess that he was expecting her to be floored.

The bar was situated at the back of the box with stools in front of it. A house-elf dressed in crisp white long sleeves and a bowtie was manning it and two other house-elves carrying a tray of flutes and finger foods roamed the box. Two buffet tables have been placed on either side. It had everything from sandwiches, quiches and mini kebabs to tarts, puddings and make-your-own sundaes.

There were thirty seats in cascading rows of ten at the front before a glass balustrade. And, thankfully, to the far left of those seats gathered three men Hermione knew quite well by their shaved head, brown hair and pale blonde hair. Hermione quickly excused herself from the sole producer of hot air in Gryffindor and made her way to them.

“Look who it is,” said Theo.

“Gryffindork,” said Draco, raising a chocolate-covered strawberry to her.

“Lovely to see you,” said Blaise, kissing her on the cheek and offering her a seat beside him.

“What are you lot doing here?” asked Hermione.

“Discussing taxes,” said Theo drily, making Hermione roll her eyes.

“The question is,” said Draco, “what are _you_ doing here? Didn’t you use to go on and on about how brutal and pointless this game is?”

“Oliver invited me, actually,” replied Hermione. “And I didn’t think it was pointless. I just thought with everything that was going on while we were in school, there were other _more important_ things.”

Draco laughed. “You do _remember_ Oliver Wood, right?”

“Same one who told Harry he could fall off a broom all he wanted as long as he got the Snitch first?” Blaise recounted.

“Hey!” She hit his arm. “He’s mellowed out.”

The three Slytherins looked at each other impassively before Theo simply drank his champagne and looked out towards the pitch. Meanwhile, Draco looked conflicted whether he should feel sorry for Hermione or burst out laughing.

“It’s her first time watching,” Blaise told him. “Obviously.”

Hermione did not choose to comment. “How are you guys doing, anyway?”

“You mean after you’ve blown off all our group meetings and lunches?” Theo asked, and monotonically added, “Devastated… Obviously.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Theo,” said Hermione.

“He’s devastated,” goaded Draco. “And when Theo said he’s devastated, he means it.”

Meanwhile, the Nott heir expressed as much emotion as a piece of parchment.

“It’s just weird at the moment,” defended Hermione. “With the whole… kerfuffle, I did not want to put you guys in a position –”

“Relax, Princess,” said Blaise. “We’re teasing.” He handed her a bowl of grapes, strawberries and cherries.

Hermione took a cherry and pouted as she ate.

“Well, Theo and I have been getting more threats than usual,” said Draco. “Been rather bothersome.”

“What threats?” asked Hermione, suddenly concerned.

“The death kind,” said Theo monotonically and sipped his flute.

“What?” Hermione’s eyes were getting wider. “Have you told the DMLE, at least contacted Harry?”

“Scar-Head knows,” said Theo. “He’s a partner of mine in _Elixirs, Draughts and Potions_ , so once the establishment gathered threats of arson, I’ve had to inform him.”

“Somebody wants to burn down your shop? Why didn’t you tell us?”

Theo shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly and Hermione hit him.

“This is one of those times when you _talk_ , idiot!”

“Very sorry,” said Draco, “but have you _met_ Theo?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What about you, Ferret? What are the threats and did you tell Harry?”

Draco rolled his eyes, too. “Yes, mum, Scar-Head knows. Not that it matters. I know where most of mine comes from.”

“Where?”

“My parents and my aunt and uncles, obviously.”

“That’s insane. You’re still family!”

“Have you _met_ them, Gryffindork? Insanity doesn’t just run in my family. It practically gallops.”

Hermione had to massage her temples with her index and middle fingers; she was getting a headache talking to these people. “Has – anything – been – done?”

“Scar-head,” said Draco simply and ate a chocolate-covered strawberry as though they were not talking about their lives being threatened by _Death Eaters_ , who were so far gone, they were _terrorizing_ their own flesh and blood.

Blaise placed an arm around Hermione to try to placate her. “What the imbecile means to say,” he said soothingly, “is that Harry has been informed and the information has been filed and is currently being investigated by the DMLE. Nothing has been found thus far, but I’m sure once something comes up, we will be informed.” He smiled at her. “We’re here to relax, Princess. You’re here to relax. So, let’s shout our lungs out and do that, okay? Look, it’s starting.”

Overhead, the commentator introduced the teams one by one as they flew out and Hermione tried her best to put all the new information to the back of her mind. When Oliver’s name was called, the four of them shouted and clapped for him. Oliver did a lap around the stadium, as his teammates have done, and when he passed by the box, Hermione did not miss how he smiled looking at her.

“Call the aurors,” said Draco. “I just saw Wood smile. He must be Imperiused.”

Hermione did not mind him. Oliver always smiled and he always laughed. Then as the match went on, Hermione observed how perhaps that was not entirely true. However, a part of her brain argued that it was simply because he was concentrating… possibly.

The points were close by the third hour at one hundred and eighty to one hundred and twenty points in favour of Puddelemere. Oliver had shown excellent flying and fantastic blocks while Logan Castor and Damian Lazarev have exhibited very creative ways of shooting points. Still, Illium Priestley has caught no sight of the Snitch.

At the moment, Oliver was sporting a busted lip from a kiss with a Bludger sent by the opposing team’s beater. However, Keon Donovan had taken care of that, by sending the offending beater to the bench with a concussion.

“Oh, Merlin, I can’t watch. I can’t watch!” Hermione covered her face with her hands, but pulled her fingers apart to peek anyway. The Tornados had the Quaffle at the moment and they were flying in a V formation. Damian tried to block the first chaser, who passed it on to the second, when Logan intercepted the Quaffle mid-pass.

“Come on! Come on! Shoot it through!” Theo shouted, pounding both his fists in the air. It was the most emotion Hermione had ever seen from him since their days at Hogwarts.

Logan dodged a Bludger, a chaser and a beater before he threw in the Quaffle. The opposing team’s keeper was about to block it, when Keon sent a Bludger his way. Damian caught Quaffle instead and dunked it into the hoop.

Hermione shouted to the top of her lungs and hugged Blaise.

Meanwhile, the Tornados had the Quaffle. They passed it between themselves, avoiding any interception by Logan. On the opposite side, Oliver moved forward from the hoops, eyes trained on the ball. A Bludger sent his way was blocked and sent by the other Puddlemere United beater (Hermione really had to learn their names) towards the opposing team’s chaser, breaking his hold on the Quaffle and his nose.

Damian dove to retrieve it, just as Illium dove.

“Priestley! Priestley saw the Snitch!” shouted Draco.

Damian managed to shoot another point for them and the crowd went wild, but Hermione’s eyes were trained on the silver-haired wizard. Illium flew like a bullet across the pitch and dove down again just as the Tornados’ seeker did the same and tried to push him out of the way.

“Blurting! Blurting!” Draco yelled.

“What?” asked Hermione.

“That seeker’s trying to steer Priestley’s broom handle off course! Foul! Ref, foul!”

Hermione wanted to say he had done that a few times with Harry before but bit her tongue.

From his side, Oliver managed two consecutive blocks. Meanwhile, Illium veered his broom in a tight right turn, which threw his opponent out since he was leaning on the wizard, and manoeuvred his broom into a very steep incline. His hand stretched out before him. A few seconds later, he levelled himself and held one hand aloft, Snitch still flapping.

The entire stadium erupted in cheers and so did the four friends. Hermione hugged Blaise and realized as she looked behind them that a photographer was by the door the entire time, taking pictures. Before she could properly think of what she was doing, her hand was doing the motion and the spell _Reducto!_ was already shouted in her head.

The camera was blasted into pieces and nobody seemed to have noticed it was because of her.

As the Puddlemere United were crowned victors of the day’s match, they did another lap around the stadium, waving at their fans.

Hermione watched closely. Oliver gave those around him a closed-mouthed smile. He raised his hand as a wave and nodded occasionally. He was a clear opposite of Keon and Damian, who were milking this for all it was worth.

Then Oliver saw her. And he smiled the smile she knew of him. Perfect teeth, sparkling eyes, could-make-the-sun-come-out-in-a-cloudy-day kind of smile. He even crinkled his nose as if saying ‘ _This is too much, innit?_ ’ It was adorable.

“You smile any wider your cheeks might burst,” Blaise whispered in her ear.

Hermione whacked him in the chest and made sure it hurt.

The four of them stayed a bit longer in the box, allowing the crowds to dissipate before their exit. According to Draco, the press conference was being held somewhere below, anyway, and it was better if they were to wait. Meanwhile, McLaggen was speaking loudly of an after party held only for the elite.

“You know, I’m impressed,” said Hermione to her old rival, in hopes of praising her friend and, of course, pissing off McLaggen by zealously ignoring him. “Draco, you haven’t been the most patient boy growing up. It was always ‘My father will hear about this’ here and ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ there. This is growth. I’m proud of you.”

“Only those high-up in the Ministry even got an invitation,” McLaggen all but shouted.

“Why, thank you,” said Draco, turning his back on the pompous Gryffindor for added insult. “I find that there are perks to abandoning one’s parents’ prejudiced world view, after all.”

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Hermione smiled.

“– and my family is, of course, friends with the Berthanellis. You know Frank Berthanelli, of course? One of _the_ most _important_ aurors in the Law Enforcement –”

“So how’s Mandy doing with the _Wizarding Herald_ , Theo?” asked Hermione.

“Very well,” said Theo. “The _Herald_ is gaining more popularity than ever.”

“Figures.” McLaggen had walked halfway towards them. Two of his companions were shaking their heads as though ashamed to be associated with him, while the other two were clearly still bigoted. “But with the _Daily Prophet_ getting exclusive shots here today, things might turn for your _Herald_.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, just leave, you pompous lump of foul deformity.”

McLaggen’s face… was… _priceless_. He looked positively scandalized.

“Everyone knows you’re a fusty nut with no kernel, that you have not so much brain as earwax, and that you are nothing more than an idol of idiot-worshippers, highly fed and lowly taught. Just move on.”

Speechless and affronted, the blond Gryffindor strode out. His two companions looking disdainfully at Hermione and the other two all but gave her the thumbs up. When they had all gone, Blaise picked up the feisty little witch and spun her around.

“That. Was. Brilliant!”

Hermione blushed. “Oh, you know, Shakespeare.”

“What?” asked the three Purebloods.

“Muggle playwright. Doesn’t matter. It felt good!”

They all cheered.

Hermione watched Oliver’s smile become subdued as he came out of the locker room and signed his fans’ merchandise. He was polite and a gentleman, but it was obvious he did not feel comfortable being touched. When he went past them and saw her, though, his smile was back and it lit up his face that Hermione could not help it when she jumped up to embrace him. Oliver picked her up and hugged her tightly, too.

“Did ye like it?” he asked as they released each other. “Did ye have fun?”

“It was nerve-wracking, but yeah, it was great,” said Hermione. “Draco, Theo and Blaise were in the box, too, so I had company.”

Oliver scratched the back of his neck. “A should’ve given ye extra tickets tae bring yer friends along. Am sorry; it flew out ma mind.”

“No, no, no, don’t worry about it. I really did enjoy myself. Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” Oliver played with the ends of her scarf with his finger, a half-smile on his lips. “D’ye have some time? We can go for food or somethin’.”

“Don’t you usually have an after-game party? I mean back then, the Gryffindor Quidditch team would have the entire House dancing and celebrating. What more now?”

Oliver shook his head and touched the small of her back, leading them forwards. “Naw, a think a’d rather have a quiet day in with ye.”

“Oli, you and I have never been quiet.”

He laughed. “Fair. But a still prefer yer company… if tha’s a’right.” He looked at her with a slight blush on his face.

Godric, if he was blushing, Hermione dreaded to think what colour _her_ face was. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

“Aye.” Oliver extended his hand. “Trust mae?”

Hermione looked at those bottle green eyes and wondered how she could not. Nodding, she held his hand. He took out a round keychain, which she took with her other hand as well, and a second later they were being sucked up by the portkey.

When Hermione landed, she felt the surge of magic before she even opened her eyes. And in an instant, she knew where they were. Breathless, though she did not know why, Hermione immediately searched the grounds for the fountain she remembered seeing the first time she came here. With snow all around them, the magnificent fountain with its splash forever frozen in stone and snow now stood significantly bigger.

“We’re at your Estate,” she said.

Oliver nodded. “A hope ye dinnae mind.”

“No, not at all.” Hermione gravitated towards the large rectangular fountain and once again gazed upon the statues of the Viking and the royal woman standing there. The Viking looked formidable and strong with his full beard, braided hair and bearskin cape that were flecked with frost and laden with snow. Meanwhile the woman looked regal in her long flowing dress, the snow about her looking like her own winter coat. Some of her hair was braided though the rest of it was loose, forever frozen as though they were aesthetically windswept. However, to Hermione’s surprise, she was holding a sword on the side of her dress, unsheathed but pointing downwards, and a dagger was sheathed right by her hip.

“Is she… Oli, is she Solveig?” Hermione asked, staring in awe of the statue before her.

“Aye,” said Oliver as he stood beside her.

Hermione looked to the Viking. “And is he Eirik?”

“Naw. This wan is Herlief the Warrior, a King Rider.”

Hermione looked at the shield between them. The crest on it had three dragons taking flight. “Whose crest is that?”

“Herlief’s. In our family’s history, we had two Riders.” He gestured to the statues. “Most ancient families only had the wan, if they had any at all. According tae mae mother, Eira the Merciful married Balder the Light Bearer af the Woodlands, or Balder af the Woods, the patriarch af the Wood family. He also happened tae be the great, great grandfather af Solveig, the Brave, whose descendants gave birth to Unn the Beloved, whose grandson was Herlief, the Warrior.”

“Wow! You’re from the genealogy of the First Rider _and_ a King Rider?”

Oliver smiled. “Aye.”

Hermione’s mind could not handle how awesome that was. She looked at the two statues before her and could not help but be baffled by the history that they had, the weight of magic that flowed through them. “You know that I have about a hundred thousand questions for you right now, right?”

Oliver smiled fondly and stirred her towards the manor. “Aye, a dae. But if it’s a’right with ye, a’d like tae have lunch first?”

“Sure, sure. How did you know about Solveig and Herlief and Viking history?”

Oliver laughed, but then conceded. “Mae mother is very proud af our ancestry. She is a descendant af a branch af Solveig’s family as well, y’see.” Hermione’s eyes widened, but Oliver continued. “She’s a historian and tries tae preserve the knowledge af history by assuring the next generation is equipped with them. She’d written books and such. Before, she even taught children here in our ain home.”

“She doesn’t anymore?”

Oliver swayed his head side to side and opened the door for Hermione. “Naw, nae anymair. Her health’s taken a turn, but she still talks tae children in wizarding communities around Scotland every noo and again, when her health permits it.” He gestured towards the grand room they called a living room and told her to relax and sit as he took what they would need from the kitchen.

Hermione looked around. This room alone was more than the size of her house’s entire floor plan. And the couches looked elegant and nice, but she was drawn towards the portrait over the mantel of the Wood family from when Adrian and Oliver were both children. Their father had brown curly hair like Oliver’s and a prominent jawline. He looked like Oliver whenever the latter did not smile. Meanwhile, his mother had straight blonde hair and those very same green eyes. She was beautiful. Paintings of Vikings depicted in battle were placed around the room along with portraits of men and women that Hermione assumed were their ancestors who politely nodded at her. Vases scattered about the place with lush green plants and heavy curtains hung on either side of gigantic windows that allowed the light in. From here, she could see the grounds and the mountains beyond. Even covered in snow, the place was still beautiful. A winter paradise.

“Ready?” Oliver had emerged with a picnic basket.

“You’re joking,” said Hermione. “It’s covered in snow out there!”

Oliver took her hand and pulled. “Which is why we’re nae goin’ ootside.” They climbed up two sets of staircases and went off towards two intricately carved azure double doors. When Oliver opened it, Hermione walked into one of the biggest and most beautiful libraries she had ever seen in her life!

Jaw on the floor and eyes wide in awe, Hermione walked into the marble tiled monolithic room of white and gold. Paintings of dragons and other magical creatures like hippogriffs and unicorns were passing them by on the high ceiling. And three chandeliers, with the middle one being the biggest, hung down with many crystals protruding from it. Every now and again, gigantic lightwood tables aligned on either side of the library, closer to the shelves, and huge windows poured natural light in. Most importantly, shelves upon shelves upon shelves filled with books new and old surrounded them.

Hermione took a deep breath. She tried not to ruin the moment by crying, but she was overwhelmed. “This is… this is… wow…”

“Like it?”

“Oh, it’s all right,” she joked. “Of course, I do! This is magnificent!”

Oliver looked proud of himself. He went to the middle of the library, between two widely spaced tables and pulled out a picnic mat from the basket. He laid it down along with the food and drinks he had gathered and sat down, looking at Hermione invitingly. “ _Voila_! A picnic with yer favourite view where am certain ye’d be warm and entertained.” He gestured up at the painted ceiling. “Dragons!”

It was possibly the sweetest gesture anyone has ever done for her. Hermione happily joined him and they talked as they ate, about their lives growing up and their childhood memories. Hermione learned that Oliver used to be such a quiet child that his parents thought he could not speak. Only when his father asked if he could say ‘broom’ that they realized he could, because Oliver had replied with, “Aye, da, I can say broom. Why dae ye ask?”

Meanwhile, Oliver learned that Hermione loved cartoons, a genre of muggle films for children, particularly those of the ‘Disney Princesses’. And Hermione learned that Oliver was massively shy as a child and his parents taught him Quidditch so he could play with the other kids.

“A wanted tae play Seeker so a wouldnae have tae talk tae the other kids,” Oliver admitted over chocolate pudding. “A could just be up there, on ma own. But Ade was better than mae at being seeker so they put me doon as Keeper.”

“And it stuck ever since.”

“Aye. Whatever happened, tho, a’d never wanted to be Chaser.”

“Two other people to talk to?”

“Aye.” They laughed.

“So that still didn’t get you talking. What else did your parents try?”

“It worked a wee bit.”

There was something about Oliver’s blush that made Hermione raise her eyebrow in intrigue. “Oli… what are you hiding?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

He blushed further. “A’right. They – er – they taught us music, y’see…”

Hermione gasped. “You sing!”

“A can carry a tune.”

“Let me hear.”

“What? Naw…”

“Come on, please?”

“Naw…” Oliver covered his face with his hands.

Hermione chuckled and tried to get them off. “Pleeeeeease?”

Oliver looked at her, his face the colour of their House. “How aboot I sing wan and then you sing wan?”

“Deal.”

The Scot chuckled and shook his head as though he could not believe what he got himself into. Hermione patiently waited for him, encouraging him with a nod. Finally, the Scot cleared his thought and Hermione felt giddy in anticipation.

_Up the caves of Scotland’s auld_

_A roaring call from timeless’ ain_

_Af flooing blood, old magic glows_

_And Rider glides doon fire’s falls_

_Come on, Rider, lead the call_

_From mountaintops, the Viking roars_

_And the dragon flies again_

_Once heavens eyes clouds o’er in smokes_

_Through the fire, Riders go_

_Born in flames and blood and smoke_

_Fate has always heeded call_

_Dragon’s breath, the Fated fall_

_Come on, Rider, heed the call_

_From skies above, the Viking roars_

_And the Rider flies again_

_Through heaven’s clouds, the Fated go_

Oliver’s voice echoed throughout the library, his song reverberating back, like many voices that sang alongside him. By the time he finished, the hairs on Hermione’s arms were standing to attention and for a moment after he finished, she could not move.

But moments passed and as green eyes met brown, Hermione found herself clapping for him and once more Oliver’s face reddened even as his smile widened.

“A’right, a’right, yer turn.”

“I’m not done appreciating you,” teased Hermione as she continued to clap for him.

“A’ve received the adoration. Any mair and it’ll just inflate ma ego, and neither of us want tha’, right?” Oliver held her hands and she tried her hardest to keep clapping.

“Oh, but it’s so well deserved!”

Oliver pulled her up. “There ye go. Yer turn. The stage is yers.”

“Oh, no, you sang sitting. I’ll sing sitting.”

“But yer already up! Seems like a waste of opportunity.”

Hermione tried to sit but Oliver blocked her. For a few moments, they simply tried to get past each other until Oliver tickled Hermione to get her away from the picnic blanket.

Arms akimbo, the brunette tried to give him her fiercest glare, but Hermione herself knew she was blushing like crazy and her lips were uncooperatively still smiling, so that was pointless. Instead, though, in an impulsive move, she curtsied before him in a way that would have made McGonagall proud.

Oliver went along with it and bowed, too.

Then Hermione began to sway, stepping side by side. The movie she had watched with Dean and Seamus came to her memory and she began to sing. Oliver mimicked her movements and began to sway as well.

_Dancing bears, painted wings_

_Things I almost remember_

_And a song someone sings_

_Once upon a December_

Hermione held up her hand and Oliver did the same. She touched their hands together, fingertip-to-fingertip and wrist-to-wrist and began to go around in a circle.

_Someone holds me safe and warm_

_Horses prance though a silver storm_

_Figures dancing gracefully_

_Across my memory_

Hermione hummed the tune and Oliver spun her around and they began to waltz around the library.

_Someone holds me safe and warm_

_Horses prance through a silver storm_

_Figures dancing gracefully_

_Across my memory_

_Far away, long ago_

_Glowing dim as an ember_

_Things my heart used to know_

_Things it yearns to remember_

_And a song someone sings…_

_Once upon a Dece-em-ber…_

Oliver spun her around one last time and dipped her down. Hermione may have forgotten to breathe. And then someone clapped.

The eye contact was immediately broken as Oliver and Hermione turned to see Mrs. Wood standing by the doors of the library. She wore a beautiful green dress that flowed to the floor around her with golden embroidery and a golden belt. Her long blonde hair hung loosely and wonderfully across her back, and her green eyes were alert and full of fondness and love for her son.

Hermione’s heart constricted for a moment as Oliver pulled her back up because for a second there, she thought Solveig had walked through the manor. “Mrs. Wood!”

The Wood matriarch smiled welcomingly at her. “Oh, please, dear, naw need tae be soo formal.”

Oliver went to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Ma, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, ma mother, Eleonora Wood.”

Hermione resisted the urge to curtsey. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“The pleasure is mine, Hermione.”

“I hope we didn’t wake you with all the ruckus we were making.”

“Naw, naw, ye hae a wonderful voice.”

Hermione only became redder. “Thank you, you’re so kind. You have a wonderful library. I hope you don’t mind. Oliver and I had lunch here.”

“The groonds are covered in snoo and Hermione loves books.” Oliver shrugged.

Mrs. Wood chuckled and touched his face. “He’s very much like his father,” she told Hermione. “Eudard wance froze his father’s pond when he realized a loved going ice skating.”

“Grandfather didnae like tha’, a bet,” said Oliver.

“It was the beginning af summer, so naw, he wasnae very fond af it.” She chuckled again, her laughter melodic.

“It was sweet, though,” said Hermione.

“Ma Eudard always was.” Mrs. Wood had a twinkle in her eye. “Well, it was wonderful tae meet ye, Hermione. Please dinnae be a stranger. Yer welcome anytime.” The woman held her hands and squeezed it.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Mrs. Wood gasped and her eyes went wide. Instantly, she dropped Hermione’s hand like it had burnt her.

“Ma?” Oliver held his mother on both arms for support, which told Hermione this had happened before and that in the past, Mrs. Wood had collapsed.

“Mrs. Wood?”

“Am a’right, am a’right.” The older woman cradled her head. “Am sorry, dear. Didnae mean tae frighten ye.”

“No, it’s okay…”

Mother and son looked at each other as though communicating. Hermione was sure Oliver was making sure she was all right, which was confirmed when he said, “Ye should rest, ma.”

“Naw, am fine. Am fine.” She turned again to Hermione. “Yer always welcome here, lass. Dinnae hesitate.” With one last smile for Hermione and one last touch of Oliver’s face, Mrs. Wood left.

Hermione did not realize she was holding her breath until the doors to the library were shut. “Is she all right? Do you want to check on her?”

Oliver shook his head and, this time, regarded her, as though he was assessing whether or not she was actually okay. “She’s fine.”

“Why did she gasp when she held my hand?”

The Scot scratched the back of his head. “Mae ma is – er – she… she’s a Seer.” He paused long enough for Hermione’s eyebrows to shoot up her hairline. “Look, a ken ye dinnae believe in divination and tha’, and a feel like a have tae tell ye, ma mother’s nothing like Trelawney, a’right?”

Hermione laughed. “I didn’t say that.”

“Aye, but the look on yer face, tho’…”

“Okay, I’m sorry – wait, how do you know I didn’t like Trelawney?”

“Are ye kidding? The way ye walked oot her class was gossip around the locker room ma last year. Harry and the twins never shut up aboot it.”

Hermione huffed. “Well, she wasn’t – it doesn’t matter. Why do you think your mum reacted that way? Did she… see something?”

“A dunno. If it were important, am sure she’d say something.” Oliver gestured to the blanket again and for a while, both of them simply sat there.

“Oliver…”

“Hmm?”

“The stories, they’re not just stories to you, isn’t it? I mean, Solveig was real. And her dragon was real. Do you think it’s possible, that Lumi is like Solveig’s dragon?”

“Lumi?”

“Luminaria, the dragon.”

Oliver gave her a half-smile. “Nice name. But… truth be told, a’d rather ye research this first. A dinnae want tae blurt things oot and make ye think one way then it turn oot tae be wrong.” He took her hand in his. “There are many things a ken aboot this subject, Hermione; a grew up learning this. And a have theories af ma ain, but a need ye ta dae yer research first soo as not tae overshadow the facts and overwhelm ye. Knooledge without context is dangerous. But if ye want… a can take ye tae visit the archives.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she gave a vigorous nod. Oliver helped her up and packed up their picnic basket within a few seconds with a few flicks. He then shrunk it and kept it in his pocket before taking Hermione’s hand and walking her to the back of the library.

Behind several shelves, at the very back wall, there was a massive mural of a forest with many trees and branches. Oliver tapped the apple on the lowest branch of a particular tree with his wand, followed by a particular orange and a bird Hermione did not recognize. The wall on their right slid open.

“Come on,” said Oliver and led her down the spiralling staircase that seemed to go on forever. Thank goodness there were torches on the walls as there were no windows and this could have gone badly.

At the base of the staircase, they continued through a tunnel. Oliver had taken his wand to light their way and Hermione did the same.

“Is this a secret passage?” asked Hermione. “You guys have an actual secret passage in your house?”

Oliver’s silhouette in front of her shrugged. “Ancestors built it. We just discovered it. Turn right here.”

“This is ridiculous! Your house is too big.”

Oliver chuckled. “Am sorry it disnae meet yer expectations. Here we are.” He tapped an old door twice with his wand and it swung open.

The archive was as different as it could be from the library. It had a low ceiling, no windows and wooden shelves filled with rolls and rolls of scrolls. Two tables were in the middle of the room and two wrought iron chandeliers hung overhead. On the walls, magical torches came alive as soon as they came in.

“This is the archives,” said Oliver and gestured to the tables in the middle. “Adrian has already begun yer research, a think. These are some af the things he could find aboot yer dragon.”

Without a second thought, Hermione looked through the parchments scattered there when a gigantic tome laid down in the middle of the table caught her attention. She looked at Oliver. “Is this safe for me to touch?”

“Aye, af course.”

“It’s just that there were books in the Black family library that could, well, kill me.”

Oliver nodded his understanding and waved his wand over the tome. Once the magic settled, he nodded at Hermione. “It’s safe.”

That was all she needed and looked at the page Adrian had left open. It was not written in a language she could understand. “Do you speak this?”

Oliver came beside her and peered down, but then shook his head.

Hermione turned the pages. An egg was drawn in the page – dragon egg. When she turned the page, the picture of a newborn and a whelp were on each page. Another turn and it was to show an adolescent and a mature dragon. Hermione closely examined them.

“These must be all ancient dragons,” she said. “We don’t have any of these anymore. Either that, or they’ve somehow evolved to the dragons we know now. Look.” She pointed at a particular one. “This looks like a Ridgeback, but the coloration is different. Or is that just because the parchment is old? Hmm…” Hermione kept turning until near the end, she came across the picture of Lumi’s egg. Another turn of the page she saw the drawn form of Lumi as a newborn and a whelp.

Hermione looked at Oliver, whose eyes were as wide as her own. “What does Adrian’s notes say?”

Oliver went to the right side of her to peruse. “Here, look.”

  * _Egg matches_
  * _Newborn form matches_
  * _Need translations on the rest of the pages (Possible: Ry, Ma)_
  * _Characteristics based on Tome 1 matches – glow, scales, communication and fire ability_



At the bottom of the page were the words ‘Viking’s Throne’, which Adrian had circled a few times. Hermione’s brows came together as it did the moment Adrian had proposed it. Why was that name familiar to her?

Hermione had to sit down. “Oli, how old was Solveig when she met her dragon?”

Oliver sat beside her. “Eighteen.”

So was she when they found the egg. “Was she the only one that the dragon could connect to?”

Oliver sighed and shook his head. “Hermione…”

“What about Herlief?”

The Scot still shook his head, adamant for her to learn it properly for herself rather than to take bits and pieces that would be out of the context of the proper lore.

Hermione looked down, frightened of the implications of what she knew so far. He was right; she knew little and already she was overwhelmed. Oliver held her hand and touched her face before lifting her chin up so his eyes could lock into hers.

“If – _if_ this is the Viking’s Throne,” he said, “I swear tae ye ye’ll have ma support and ma help in any way ye want it. This is nae something ye face alone. Ye’ve got a whole lot af people here with ye. A’right?”

Hermione nodded. “I just don’t understand. If… if she is… I’m not even from any Viking ancestry. I’m a Muggleborn, for Godric’s sake!”

“It is nae just witches and wizards with Viking’s blood that’re chosen by the Viking’s Throne, Hermione.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we studied this religiously, ma brother and I. As long as yer magic is pure – and tha’ has nothing tae dae with blood – then the dragon can choose ye.”

Hermione nodded. “What will happen now?”

“The dragon cannae dae anything right noo. Let her groo and learn and bond with ye.”

“And what happens after that?”

Oliver sighed. “A dinnae ken.”

Hermione sighed as well and looked at the tome. “I guess this will have to wait for now.” They stood and Oliver led her out the main door and up to the main foyer of the house. However, in the comfortable silence, Oliver reached for her hand and led her out to the back door through to the gardens. He tapped both of them with his wand and wordlessly placed a heating charm over them. Hermione had to admit; she was impressed.

As they walked about the snow-covered garden with the early-setting sun in the horizon, Oliver squeezed Hermione’s hand.

“Would it be a’right if we dae this again?”

Hermione thought about it. “I suppose.”

“And would it be a’right if I write tae ye every noo and again?”

She bit her lip. “I suppose.”

Oliver stopped and faced her. “A want tae dae this right with ye.” He cleared his throat. “A like ye, Hermione. But a want tae give ye the time ye need, and am more than ready tae take things sloo. If ye’d let me, a want tae get tae knoo ye, really get tae knoo ye. What d’ye say?”

Truth be told, Hermione’s heart was pounding on her chest like mad. Truth be told, a huge part of her wanted to say ‘yes’ with no abandon. But truth be told, there was still a part of her that has not quite moved on and until she was there, pouring whatever her feelings was on Oliver would not be fair.

“I think I do need time,” she said. “It’s unfair otherwise and you deserve better than that. But I do want to get to know you, too. So maybe the ‘take things slow’ part isn’t too bad.”

Oliver broke into a smile that could melt snow. “Braw, ma bonnie lass.” He kissed her hand and they kept walking.

By the time Hermione emerged back in Central, she was on cloud nine. Her grin was crazy wide, her skin seemed permanently blush-red and, if Luna could see her now, she would comment that Hermione’s aura was glowing or dancing or leaping or something.

So happy was she that Hermione did not notice the witch that was sitting on the waiting bench until said witch had called her name three times.

Hermione turned around and her smile faded. Before her was a witch with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. She was pretty, with perfectly smooth skin, if not for the dry tear marks that were on her face. But Hermione still recognized her. She was forever burned in her memory… as the woman Ron was with.


	23. Freedom, Cut Me Loose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for following this fic and please continue to tell me what your theories and guesses are. I enjoy reading them as well as what scenes stick with you. You can also tell me what you may want to see in the future chapters and (if it isn't pivotal to the plot) I'll see if I can add them in.
> 
> Second of all, FULL DISCLOSURE: there is a MONUMENTAL change (physical) in Hermione in this chapter that signifies where I want to take her and her character arc. It may surprise (maybe enrage) few people, but this is MY Hermione and this is how I see her.
> 
> Third of all, there is strong language and Ron bashing in this chapter. You have been warned.
> 
> Fourth, the title of this fic is from Beyoncé's song. It is hers. I am merely borrowing it.
> 
> Lastly, enjoy (hopefully).

Why was it, Hermione wondered, that whenever something amazing happened in her life, something awful must immediately follow it? Why, after she had one of the most incredible days after months of hurting and stress, did her past catch up to her now?

“Can I help you?” Hermione asked.

“I am Amelie Dufort,” the woman introduced in a French accent. “I would like to speak wiz you.”

Hermione looked around. It was almost dinner, which meant it was almost her shift. She needed to get back home to change if she were to get to the Crèche in time. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the time right now.”

“ _S’il vous plait, madame. C’est important_.” The woman’s eyes were filling with tears. Hermione also noticed that she was dressed in a travelling cloak and a carpet bag was by the seat she had previously occupied.

Feeling pity mixing with dread, Hermione led her to the waiting area behind the reception once more and they sat opposite each other. “ _Qu’est-ce que tu veux_?” Hermione asked. She may not have been perfectly fluent in French but she could still remember her lessons.

The woman began wringing her hands. “You and Ronald…”

Hermione’s heart twisted at the mention of his name and the fact that she called him the way Hermione did.

“Eez eet finished? _Vraiment_?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

The woman shook her head. “He and I – we ‘ave not talked.”

“Neither have we.”

The woman nodded but still looked at her sceptically. “Do you plan to get back togezer?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that is any of your business –”

“Eet eez _important_ –”

“Why? Is it not enough that you –” Hermione held her tongue. No, it was not this woman’s fault. What _Ron_ did was not this woman’s fault, unless… “Did you know about us?”

The woman shook her head. “ _Non. Je le jure_ – I swear, I did not know… We met in a muggle club. My friend, she took me zer during my trip, to relax, _non_? My friend bought ‘im a drink and we talked and we… left togezer. Eet was supposed to be one night only.”

“But then?” Hermione prompted.

“We met again. Two nights after.”

Hermione’s whole body had gone cold. If the first time was when she was taken to hospital, the second time was after her parents have died. “And the third?”

“Ronald came to my house, months after. And from zer, ‘e kept coming back.”

Months of guilt. Since the disaster that was her birthday to the time they broke up, Ron felt nothing but guilt. This was why. He made her feel like shit about her scars, but he never stopped fucking his mistress. He made her feel horrible for having time for other people and not him, for talking to other people but not him, all the while, he continued to go to bloody France to fuck his bloody mistress!

Hermione hands were balled into fists and her breathing was becoming laboured in anger. “Look, Miss Dufort, honestly, I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about you and Ron. I don’t care if you want to be with him or if he wants to be with you. I just want to be left alone. I will not be angry with you for your innocence, but I am angry with him for his duplicity. Whatever it is that you do, please, leave me out of it.” She stood up and walked out.

“Mademoiselle,” the woman called.

Hermione looked back in time to see Dufort stand up, her travelling cloak flapping open. A bump was on her otherwise trim midsection.

“Forgive me,” said the woman, “for my part in ‘urting you.”

Hermione ran. She ran towards the path barely lit by her shaking wand. She ran in the haze of blurriness that her tear-filled eyes could barely see. She ran, her chest rumbling as the sobs tore out of her without her consent. And she ran, wanting nothing more than to not be here.

Charlie once told her that when she finally felt like crying, he would be there. When she felt she was ready to pour everything out, he would be with her. But right now it was just her and he was far away.

The dam broke. Anger and frustration, bitterness and hurt, resentment and loss came pouring out of Hermione in a massive sob that sent her kneeling to the ground. Heaves of sobs that made her want to vomit came rushing out one after another. And in all of it, the forefront of her thoughts was she did not want to be here.

She thought of Ron. Every argument, every look of disdain, every sound of disgust, every false accusation and every single blame came flashing before her mind. It was too much. Instinct took over.

Hermione got to her feet and gripped her wand.

_Incendio!_

In the most powerful spell she had ever cast non-verbally, fire shot out of her wand and straight into the air. It rose like a pillar up to the heavens and once again, Hermione thought, _I don’t want to be here._

From a short distance away, a dragon screeched.

***

Charlie casted a quick Tempus Charm to check the time. Hermione had promised to be here by now. Avienne and Thell were already betting that Hermione was going to be late and Charlie did not want to hear the _reasons_ for their bets. He had been in a mood all day and he knew it. He tried to distract himself with Nazuri and Lumi, but at the moment, with the sun long gone from the horizon, he had stopped being entertained.

Leaving the two newborns asleep in the Ward, Charlie walked towards the rail, about to ask his co-workers where the fuck Hermione was, when a patronus of a leopard materialized before the pit and spoke in Ardy’s voice.

“ _Charlie! It’s Hermione! She’s been taken by the Ridgeback!_ ”

Dread spread over Charlie and then his body moved. Leaping over the railing, he ran towards the entrance to the Crèche while instructing his fellow dragon keepers.

“Avienne, stay with the newborns! Memphis, Thell, you’re with me. Send a patronus to the others to meet us at the border of the Ridgeback’s territory!” Summoning a broom, Charlie leapt on without missing a beat and flew out into the night sky. Unfortunately for them, the moon was a waxing crescent and the night sky was filled with patches of thick clouds. It would be difficult for them to see.

“ _Point Me!_ ” Charlie said and his wand pointed north. He took the direction of the eastern mountains.

Memphis and Thell flew by his side. Up ahead, he saw Ardy, Raphael and Adrian waiting for them on their brooms. From the direction of their cabins in the southeast came Michan. Charlie slowed down and they formed a circle up in the air.

“What the hell happened?” he asked.

“Adrian and I just finished our last round of checks in the Ridgeback’s territory,” said Ardy loudly over the sound of the wind. “We were on our way to dinner when we saw this pillar of fire appear out of nowhere. Before we know it, the Ridgeback was roaring and it swooped down like it grabbed something.”

“A heard Hermione scream,” said Adrian, “and a saw her face when her wand lit it. She was the wan who conjured the pillar af fire.”

Charlie’s hands balled into fists. “If your brother hurt her, Ade, I’d –”

“She was talking to a woman,” interrupted Raphael. “I was on my way in when I saw her run out. She was distraught that she didn’t hear me. There was this woman in Central wearing a traveling cloak that was crying, too.”

Charlie ground his teeth. “We go in and we assess the situation before we formulate a plan to –”

A roar pierced the air. Charlie had heard it before. It was the same kind that Lucile let out the time Hermione was in France. But this time, it came from the Ridgeback.

“Let’s go!” Charlie yelled and they flew over to the wyvern’s territory.

Up in the eastern mountains, there was a clearing where the trees had been uprooted by the wyvern to chew, scratch and set on fire as he pleased. As Charlie and the six dragon keepers slowly made their way through the thick trees, they let the heart-breaking cries of the wyvern lead the way. When they neared the clearing, however, the wyvern’s roaring stopped.

With his eyes adjusting in the dark, Charlie could see the Ridgeback crouching down until he was lying on the earthen floor. It let out whimpers like those he usually heard from Nazuri and Lumi, but it was more from the wyvern’s throat.

A silhouette emerged from the shadow of the wyvern. Charlie immediately recognized her. Hermione walked towards the beast and placed her hand on his snout. In the near silence of the pauses between the wyvern’s whimpering, came the sound of Hermione’s crying.

She broke. She finally broke and it killed Charlie that he could not be there for her.

“Stay here,” said Charlie to the men.

“But –”

“Stay. Here.”

Charlie slowly made his way to the clearing and he was almost successful, but he just had to step on a twig, didn’t he?

Immediately, the wyvern’s head shot up and turned in his direction, just as Hermione’s wand pointed at his chest.

“It’s me,” said Charlie. “It’s just me.”

“ _Charlie_ …” Her small voice broke his heart and even more so when she ran towards him and embraced him, crying on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” Charlie hugged the little witch just as tightly as she did him. Once before, when Hermione was in hospital and Charlie had seen the cruel scar that Bellatrix had carved on her arm, he swore to himself he would do anything to help them heal. He promised himself whatever it took he would be there for them. Charlie planned on fulfilling that promise. This may not have been about the war anymore, but he had no desire to let it go. He would help Hermione. Whatever it took.

The boys had gone, though Charlie was certain one or two of them had stuck around just in case. He had made a bonfire and sat on a log with Hermione. The Ridgeback behind them was content to cover his head with his wing and sleep.

The tears have stopped now; Hermione was simply looking thoughtfully into the fire. Charlie let her to her thoughts.

“I want to get a tattoo.”

Charlie looked at her red-rimmed eyes. “Why?”

“I want to be free and I want to gain my confidence back.”

“If you’re absolutely certain, you have my support. But your reasons have to be sure.” He held her hand. “You don’t have to cover up.”

“I’m not doing this for Ron. I’m done with him. I’m doing this for me. This is what I want.”

Charlie nodded. “Then I’m right behind you.”

Hermione smiled at him. “I know you are,” she said and kissed his cheek in gratitude.

***

The morning of Christmas Eve found Hermione meeting another worker in the Reserve she previously had only seen around.

After Charlie had helped her calm down the night before, she went home to change and insisted on taking her shift. That night, she talked to Harry on their two-way mirror and told him of her plans. It surprised him, but her brother was also supportive and even joked about tattooing his scar, perhaps with a pygmy puff, if only to freak out Ginny and Molly.

To Hermione’s surprise, Luminaria was quite behaved, if not a little excitable, that shift. Perhaps the little dragon could sense Hermione’s emotions, but it was evident that she was happy and sweet with Hermione, and even nice to Michan. The dragon keepers brought the two newborns to the pit so they could play and tire themselves out. When Nazuri tried to be mischievous by attempting to bite Michan, Luminaria’s growls and throaty roars pierced the air. Nazuri looked chastised by the time Lumi finished and behaved the rest of the night.

Of course, Michan had Hermione write it down on her journal. It was something that they had not seen before in newborns. Hermione _had_ seen it twice before when Lucile would scold Adherion. But for Luminaria to do it to another newborn that was older than her, and for said newborn to listen (let alone the fact that said newborn was _Nazuri_ ), that was unheard of.

When Avienne and Charlie came the next morning, Michan and Hermione excitedly told them of the new progress, which they, of course, were fascinated by.

Before Hermione’s shift could officially end, the other dragon keeper came in. Charlie invited the handsome Italian to the office and introduced them.

“Hermione, this is Nicky. He works with the Ironbelly in the northern mountains. Nicky, this is Hermione Granger.”

A tan-skinned wizard with a short beard and _gorgeous_ wavy black hair grasped Hermione’s hand and kissed it, each knuckle of his left hand was tattooed with different dragon skulls. “ _Buongiorno signorina. Come sta?_ ”

“ _Bene, grazie_ ,” said Hermione and his face lit up.

“Oh, _m_ _olto buona_! _Very_ good!” he said in a thick Italian accent. “I am Nicolo Emmanuel Maximiliano Luca Lombardi, but you call me Nicky. I hear you want tattoo?”

“Yes, I do. I actually have some ideas.”

“ _Fantastico!_ You want them today?”

“If we can, yes. But I’m hesitating about taking care of it tomorrow.”

He waved his hand in dismissal. “ _Bella_ , healing charms are available. You do not worry your pretty face, yes?”

Hermione giggled and bid Charlie and Michan goodbye before flying with Nicky to her cottage. There, she served him tea and some of her home-baked cookies before showing the design she wanted and where.

“ _Mamma mia_ , is big, no?”

“It is a bit. Do you think we can do it in one go or would it be better to break it over several days?”

Nicky thought about it for a while. “It will be nice to have tattoo finished for Christmas, yes?”

“I was hoping it would be, but you’re the artist.”

“And you are wanting the tattoo to move, yes?”

“Uh-huh.”

“There are things we can do. _Ecco!_ ” He rubbed his hands together excitedly. “If I draw tattoo and then heal, and then draw and heal, draw and heal, it will finish much faster. It will still take very long, _sfortunatamente_ , all the details. But definitely faster than muggle way, _grazie Dio_.”

Hermione nodded her approval. “Okay, how long do you think?”

The Italian frowned. “Eight hours, give or take. You can sleep.”

Hermione giggled. Her stomach was filling with butterflies and her heart aflutter. She was ready for this. “All right then. Let’s do this.”

***

“Oh, wow…” Charlie’s eyes went wide. “When you told me you were getting a tattoo, I thought… well, less than that.”

Hermione looked behind her shoulder at him and smiled. She was glowing, absolutely ecstatic about the result. “I know it seems crazy, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look good.”

“It does, it does.”

The tattoo Hermione designed was of a more mature Luminaria with her scales in a gradient from black to indigo and tipped yellow-orange. It was absolutely detailed and Nicky’s wonderful spell-work enabled the dragon to come alive.

The tattoo itself went over Hermione’s purple scars. Lumi’s head was by her right collarbone and shoulder, her body and wings on Hermione’s back and her tail and tail fin flicking over Hermione’s left hip. At the moment, Hermione was wearing a backless halter top with her fitted Capri pants, just so she could show it off.

Unable to help himself, Charlie traced his finger down her back. He could still feel the scar underneath as he went over the beautiful artisanship of Nicky Lombardi. Charlie looked straight at the witch’s amber-flecked chocolate eyes. “Beautiful.”

Her responding smile sent flutters down Charlie’s stomach.

From the furnace, a soft call sounded and they both turned to see Lumi waking up.

“Lumi, come see,” Charlie cooed and picked up the little dragon. “Look at what your mum did. Who’s that? Who’s that on her back?”

Upon seeing her own image, Lumi began to coo and change her scales to match. Charlie and Hermione looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Hold on,” said Hermione. “Lumi, look.”

Suddenly, the dragon tattooed on her back began to glow, her nubs, fins, wing tips and edges illuminating bluish-white. The real Lumi again began to emulate it.

“She can do it by will,” said Hermione in awe. “She has that much control over her transformations and she’s barely a month old.”

“When he was this age, Nazuri could not even control his spikes,” said Charlie. “She’s advanced for a newborn dragon. All others I’ve encountered have no control until they are at least six weeks old. Some even take longer at eight weeks.”

Hermione faced them both and took Lumi so she could pepper her with kisses. “Beautiful little bitty baby. Very smart, Lumi, well done.”

Charlie felt his heart melting at the sight of them. Lumi took all the kisses, basking in them and nuzzling herself on Hermione’s face. But soon, the body’s more primal needs had to be taken care of and she began to call for her milk. Charlie laughed.

“She’s definitely your dragon.”

Hermione hit him on the arm and poked her tongue out. Lumi copied her, making Charlie laugh all the more.

As Hermione fed her little dragon, Charlie could not help but stare. The stupid part of his brain was urging him to admit what was happening, but the stubborn part of him, which was a majority, was doing its best to keep the stupid part quiet.

It was not as if anything could come of it. Their relationship was far too interconnected, far too involved. If they were to – well, it was just impossible, wasn’t it? Their entire family might just disown Charlie. Besides, he was way too old for her. And if Harry ever found out… well, there might be no Charlie left to disown.

But it was difficult not to, wasn’t it? She was smart, courageous, bold, caring, supportive, funny, and, Merlin, was she beautiful! And even at the times of her weakness and vulnerability, Hermione was not afraid to say she was unsure or that she did not know. Her humility had grown since her know-it-all days, and that was maturity. And she was not afraid to ask for help or to rely on Charlie, because she _trusted_ him.

And here he was, looking like a lecher. Charlie shook his head and looked at the sleeping form of Nazuri instead.

“Memphis, Avienne and the Ninja Turtles are covering our shifts tonight and tomorrow,” said Charlie. “Any plans?”

“The girls are coming over tonight,” said Hermione. “Ginny and Luna are finally here from Hogwarts, so we’re going out for drinks and a dance.”

“Do they know of the tattoo?”

The mischief in Hermione’s smile said they didn’t. “They might miss it. We don’t know.”

Charlie laughed. “Oh, it’s a spec. You might have to point it out.”

Hermione laughed as well.

“What about tomorrow? Any Christmas plans?”

“Harry said he’s got a surprise for some of our friends – me, Pansy, Blaise, Draco, Dean and Seamus. I think he’s taking us to lunch in Muggle London, a dinnae ken. But the rest have family stuff going on. We should do breakfast.”

“‘A dinnae ken’, huh? Oliver’s rubbing off on you.”

Hermione giggled and Charlie pushed the green-eyed feeling before it could fully arise.

“Breakfast would be nice. Any dinner plans?”

“No, we still haven’t discussed about Christmas dinner.”

“You know, you lot are more than welcome to the Burrow for Christmas dinner, right?”

“I know, Charlie, I do. But it might just get uncomfortable with Ron there, and it’s Christmas. Everyone deserves a good time.”

The redhead nodded and left it alone. “Ginny will freak out when she sees you.”

***

“Oh. My. _Goodness_!”

Ginny Weasley appeared on Hermione’s full-length mirror with her eyes as big as saucers. “You got a tattoo! You actually went and got a _huge_ tattoo!”

Hermione faced the redhead and the two of them started screaming in excitement as they embraced and jumped around. When Mandy, Pansy and Luna also came up to her room, they all screamed again.

“Merlin, Hermione!” exclaimed Ginny, not being able to help the huge smile on her face. “What the hell happened?”

“When did you get this done?” asked Mandy. “Look at it. It’s _huge_!”

“I know, I know!” Hermione fixed the strap of her black backless and spaghetti-strapped sheath dress. “It just finished this afternoon and I’m so happy I got it done!” She showed them her back once more and they all touched the tattoo. Tattoo-Lumi was wiggling from all the attention she was getting.

“What kind of dragon is she?” asked Luna.

“She’s actually the newborn we have,” Hermione answered evasively. “Her name is Luminaria. She’s the egg I got during my first day on the job that I wrote to you girls about. She just hatched a few weeks ago. We’re really clicking and I just felt really connected with her, you know?”

“You’ve been spending way too much time with Charlie,” said Ginny and the girls laughed. “But honestly, look at her scales! She’s gorgeous!”

“That’s not all, ladies,” said Hermione and made Lumi’s fins glow by will. There were ‘ooh’s and ‘ah’s all around.

“If only dragons are the size of pygmy puffs,” said Luna, “I would love one. But as it is, I still have dreams of the Triwizard Tournament.” She shuddered.

Hermione looked at Pansy. The Slytherin was the only one who still has not commented. “Pans? What do you think?”

“I think this dress is gorgeous and I’m wondering why the hell haven’t I got one!” The Slytherin stomped her foot for emphasis. “But as for your tattoo…” She looked at Hermione with a twinkle in her eye. “You’ve done it, haven’t you? You’re over him.”

The smile Hermione gave her confirmed her answer.

“I am so happy for you,” said Mandy and hugged her tightly. “You are so brave and so strong, Hermione.”

Pansy pressed Hermione’s cheeks together with her thumb and middle finger, making Hermione pout, and smirked. “Proud of you.”

Hermione smiled at her friends. “Thanks, ladies. I appreciate the support and the lunch dates.”

Ginny loudly cleared her throat. “I have a question. Why weren’t the details explained to me? All _everybody_ said was that you two broke up because Ron cheated. Mandy found out, or something? Why is everyone avoiding the details?”

Pansy and Mandy looked at each other and chose to sit down on Hermione’s bed instead.

“I mean I get it, my brother was a dick. But why weren’t you answering my specific questions in your letters?”

A sigh left Hermione. “Because he’s still your brother, Gin, and Harry and I don’t want there to be a rift between you two so we’ve asked everyone to –”

“I can handle my own decisions, Hermione.”

“And it’s _my_ decision how much of my life I tell.” Hermione held her hands. “Gin, I love you. You’re one of my best friends. But I just want to put all these behind me and celebrate right now.”

The redhead pouted but soon yielded. “You are still coming for Christmas, right?”

“Not answering that right now.” Hermione pulled all the girls down to her living room. She checked the time; she had only opened her floo network for a few minutes and she had to be sure they were out of there before it closed.

Careful not to jostle her French twist, Hermione put on her leather jacket, which was an early Christmas gift from Avienne, who she was not going to see until after Christmas, then led the girls to the fireplace and called out to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, it was easy enough to apparate to the club that Blaise had recommended, owned by a Half-Blood. Of course, their names were written down for VIP and there was no need to wait.

The music was thumping and the lights were pulsing over the dance floor that was already packed with people. The girls were led up to the floor above where it was much less crowded and very much exclusive. It was for magical people only and wands had to be checked at the door to prove they were a witch or a wizard.

After getting a table, the girls had ordered their drinks from the house-elf bartender. The first round of fruity cocktails was raised for their reunion and the second round was raised for freedom and Girls’ Night. Afterwards, they all went dancing.

Admittedly, it had been a while since they had a Girls’ Night, the last being the one before Hermione’s birthday. And though she still kept in contact with them via letters and the occasional lunch dates, it was still different when they were all together.

In such a short number of months, the group had gotten close. They had learnt to trust and put aside childish differences. They had learnt to defend each other and stand by one another despite the seemingly unbridgeable gap that once stood between them. And now, they were all better together.

“Uh-oh.”

Pansy jutted her chin towards the corner of the club and the girls turned to see Ron making his way towards them with the boys. Neville, Dean and Seamus happily greeted the ladies, while Draco, Blaise and Theo hung back like they were still too cool to talk in the middle of a dance floor.

“What the hell, Blaise?” said Pansy, immediately calling him out. “What are you boys doing here tonight?”

It was Neville who answered. “We’re doing a pub crawl.” He raised his pint to them with a smile. He had obviously had more than one drink.

“Exactly. We didn’t know you were planning on coming tonight,” said Blaise.

In greeting, Theo kissed Mandy, Ginny held Harry’s hand and Fred and George kissed Hermione’s cheeks, much to her amusement, while dancing on either side of her. Meanwhile, Ron tried to hold Hermione’s hands, making things awkward, and she pulled away.

“Mione, can we talk, please?”

“Mate, how ‘bout we go for another round, eh?” said Theo.

“No! I just need to talk to Mione. I still love her!” Ron tried to pull her towards him. “Mione, you got my flowers? I gave you some.”

“Bollocks, he’s had a few to drink,” said Seamus.

“Over there.” Harry pointed towards a private room. “Don’t let him make a scene out here or we’re all going to be in the papers tomorrow.”

They awkwardly moved like a herd of sheep, though the still dancing Fred and George had to be towed by hand. In no time, the group was allowed into the private room. It had lights, a private bar and… were those poles on the stage?

“Shite, I think we’d still be in the papers tomorrow,” said Draco.

“Blaise,” called Harry, once again taking charge of the situation. “Tell whoever is in charge we’re not – that we don’t need – just them to leave us alone.”

“On it.” Blaise disappeared towards the door.

Once again, Ron tried to hold Hermione, but she withdrew.

“Mione, if we can just talk –”

“Mate,” said Harry, “why don’t we just have –”

“No! She’s avoiding me!” shouted Ron. “She’s thrown us in the rubbish without giving us a single chance!”

Even Fred and George sobered at that. All playfulness and hopes of salvaging the night flitted away like dandelion seeds in a breeze.

“Why didn’t you answer my letters?” Ron asked Hermione.

She kept silent and avoided his eyes.

“Mione…” Ron held her arms, begging.

Still, Hermione kept silent.

“Mione, please…”

Those around them felt the heartbreak. Though they knew, even in part, what Ron, it did not change the fact that he was breaking without Hermione. And though they saw Hermione stoic or angry, they knew what happened had broken her, too.

“I made a mistake,” said Ron. “I hurt you. I get that. But please, talk to me. Why don’t you ever talk to me?”

Hermione looked at him. “Because you lie. That’s all you do.”

Ron shook his head. “It’s not a lie that I love you.”

The urge to slap him was steadily increasing, but Hermione stopped herself. “No. You think so, Ron, but I don’t think you do. You don’t do this to someone you love. You don’t lie. You don’t cheat.”

“Especially not,” said Pansy, “when they were just rushed to the hospital because they collapsed.”

Perhaps not everyone stood heartbroken after all.

“You WHAT?” asked Ginny.

George immediately held onto her wrist to restrain her.

“I made a mistake!” said Ron.

“You made several,” said Hermione. “Now face the consequences of it.”

Ron looked at her like he had never seen her before, and in a way, Hermione thought maybe he hadn’t. In the past, whenever she would stand up for herself and they would fight, it was next to no time until she caved and they were back on good terms. There were times when she tried to be the bigger person and let it slide, or times when they put Harry first and stood together. But now, now Hermione had learnt her worth and the things he had taken for granted or even detested. She was no longer willing to undervalue herself to appease him.

“I don’t think you and I will ever get back together,” said Hermione, though not unkindly.

Ron’s eyes watered and she saw his pain. But just as quickly, Hermione saw the walls come up and pain was changed to defensiveness. “Is it because you have somebody else? It’s Charlie, isn’t it?”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Ron, mate, think about what you’re saying,” said Dean, sighing as he covered his face with his hand.

Ron ignored him. “It’s true, isn’t it? While I was mourning our relationship and trying to do what I can to make things right, you were fucking my brother!”

Harry pushed him away from Hermione. “That’s out of line, mate. Enough.”

“I’m right, though, aren’t I? I bet you were relieved we broke up, so you can move on to Charlie!”

“Oh, Ron, no,” whispered Luna, covering her face and cringing.

“You son of a bitch!” shouted Pansy, who had to be held back by Draco.

“Ron, enough of this, mate,” said Neville, trying to pull the redhead away with the help of Dean and Seamus.

“Tell me, Hermione, how does he like your scars?” Ron shouted and that did it for Hermione. Patience snapping, she turned to Ginny.

“The first time your dear lovely brother slept with Amelie Dufort was the day I collapsed and was rushed to St. Mungo’s. The second time was the day after I found out my parents died. The third time was the night of my birthday. We were in France and he saw me naked. He saw my scars and _hated_ them so much that he walked out on me. After that, he made me feel insecure, unworthy, and less than a woman, all the while he _continued_ to _fuck_ that woman. He cheated on me and continued to do so even _after_ he made me feel bad about myself and repeatedly ‘apologized’.” Hermione faced Ron. “Apologies for your hatred of my body mean nothing when you continue to fuck another woman behind my back because you couldn’t stand the sight of my scars. We. Are. Done. Grow up and, for once in your life, take responsibility for the things you’ve done. And not just when it comes to me. Take responsibility for _her_ , too.” With that, she took off her leather jacket and marched out of the room with her tattooed back in full view.

In the silence that followed her walk out, George let go of Ginny’s wrist. “After her parents died, Ron?” he said, voice filled with disgust.

“After she trusted you with her body?” said Fred.

“You’re a fucking sod –”

“And a arsehole to boot.”

“Ginny –”

“Now.”

The Bat-Bogey hex hit its target square on the face followed by a few punches that only stopped when Harry carried his girlfriend out of the room.

One silently cast spell and Draco had Ron standing stock still and unable to move.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” said Theo, knocking the redhead out cold.

Hermione refused to leave the bar because of Ron. She refused to mope or cry or have her night ruined because her arse of an ex was being himself. No. Instead, she danced because she felt like it. She drank because she wanted to. And she did not let herself feel down because she finally stopped caring.

No, _that_ felt good. Getting things out in the open felt freeing. She was no longer keeping this tragedy a secret from her friends. She was finally free of that burden. And she was happy.

When Fred and George caught up with her on the dance floor, they did not say anything. They just danced with her and made her laugh. The twins, Hermione thought, were a lot like Charlie in that regard. Words were not needed with them. They would simply extend their comfort by being there and supporting her.

Soon enough, Luna joined them, followed by Mandy and Theo. Draco and Blaise came next and then Neville, Dean and Seamus. Harry and Ginny joined after the latter calmed down.

Ron was left in the room for whomever to find.

Christmas Eve went well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... *awkwardly twiddles thumbs* what you think?


	24. A Very Merry Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW! Thank you for being supportive of Hermione's tattoo! I am greatly relieved and excited about all this.
> 
> Well, it's Christmas time for our Hermione. Enjoy, people!

“Harry, I did not dress for this!”

When Harry James Potter said he had a Christmas Surprise planned, Hermione thought they were going to have lunch at a wonderful restaurant with their friends. What she did _not_ expect was to take a portkey out of the country and end up in the Quidditch Stadium that she was just in two days ago. She was in jeans, boots and a sweater then and she felt out of place, what more now?

Her off-white vintage-style dress, with its V-neck, bishop sleeves and full circle skit, stood out in the crowd of Puddlemere United navy-blue and Chudley Cannons bright orange. Moreover, it was widely backless and now showcased her tattoo in all its glory.

“I agree!” said Pansy beside her, who wore the dark green off-shouldered swing dress that Hermione had gifted her with black lace gloves and a fascinator.

“I don’t see the lads complaining,” said Harry, gesturing to Blaise and Draco, who were both, of course, in their gorgeous suits.

“They wear that everywhere!” said Hermione before regarding the two. “Seriously, at this stage, I consider you without your tie scandalously naked.”

“Oh, I’d bet you’d like to see ‘scandalously naked’,” muttered Blaise, making Draco snigger.

“Perks of dressing like normal people,” said Dean and high-fived Seamus. Both were finding the whole situation amusing. Hermione and Pansy bristled.

“Ladies, it’ll be fine,” assured Harry. “It’ll just be us in the box anyhow.”

Behind them, somebody let out a loud whistle. Harry smiled. “Well, us and them.”

The group turned around and saw the Weasley twins, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Mandy and Theo. The friends greeted each other in surprise.

“I thought you guys were spending Christmas with your families,” said Pansy.

“We are,” said Neville, wrapping an arm around her. “But you guys are family, too. Tell them the rest of the surprise, Harry.”

Harry took something from his pocket and enlarged it. “Passes for us to meet the Puddlemere United before the game!”

The others cheered, but Hermione’s heartbeat increased in excitement. She would get to see Oliver again. And at Christmas, too!

Catching her thoughts, Hermione wondered about her sudden elation. This was new, wasn’t it? However, before she could dwell on it, Pansy had grabbed her hand and pulled her along as they went up the Stadium’s stairs along with the growing crowd.

“Listen, Golden Girl,” Pansy whispered, wrapping her arm around Hermione’s. “There are journalists here. They will be watching. What’s more, the public will be scrutinizing you. They’ve barely seen you since the whole Affair Fiasco exploded, so every move, every expression, everything you do will be analysed and assigned meaning. I want you to do something for me.”

“Don’t cower? Be confident?” Hermione guessed. “Don’t worry, Snarky, I won’t and I will.” She lifted her chin up.

Beside her, Pansy looked on proudly. When Hermione tapped her wand to her lips and made it redder, the Slytherin looked on the verge of tears. She squeezed Hermione’s arm. “I taught you well. We may yet make a Slytherin out of you after all.”

“I’m not a serpent, Pans… I’m a lion.” Hermione smirked, patting the side of her tendril twisted bun. “Hear. Me. Roar.”

Pansy looked like she was having the best Christmas she had in a long time.

The Team Manager of Puddlemere United himself, Isaac Morgenthau, met the group at the doors and ushered them into the Puddlemere United locker room where the players were finishing up getting ready. Upon seeing the group, Damian, Keon, Illium and Logan immediately got up and hollered. They were greeting and introducing the group to other players and, of course, Voldemort’s defeat was brought up. It looked as if the players and the reserves were just as awestruck in meeting them as they were meeting the team. As different conversations arose within different circles in the room, in the back of Hermione’s mind, she was very much aware that Oliver was not in the room.

“Hold it, hold it, hold everything!” said Damian and everyone turned to him. To Hermione’s horror, he was looking straight at her. “Baby, is that a tattoo on your back? Because that is without a doubt the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Hermione’s expression turned blank. “Do you think about what you say or do you just open your mouth and hope the right thing comes out?”

Keon laughed and hit Damian on the back. “Yer charm’s a dud, mate!”

“More non-existent than a dud,” said Hermione and had everyone laughing at the Chaser. That was when Oliver entered the room with his playbook in hand.

“A’right, everyone, gather up.” Just as he said it, Oliver looked up and saw the crowd before him. All of a sudden, he was speechless. Whether it was because he saw the group or because he saw Hermione and her dress, it was not quite certain.

“This is it,” said Fred, stepping up and holding out his hands in a perfect imitation of a well-remembered Oliver Wood Pep Talk.

“The big one,” said George, mimicking with him.

“We’ve trained for this in every weather -”

“And we want this win more than they do.”

“So Beaters!” Fred turned to Donovan and another hulking gentleman whose name Hermione had already forgotten. “Remember, no Bludgers are to touch our Seeker. I don’t care if you hit them in the face!”

“And Chasers!” George turned to Logan and Damian and another who – argh! Hermione really needed to pay more attention. “We’ve trained for this. Lean down and _do not_ drop the Quaffle!”

Damian saluted.

“And Priestley!” Fred said. “This is no time to be a gentleman. Knock them off their broom if you have to!”

Hermione stepped forward with her hands on her hips. “And a dinnae care if ye fall off yer broom as long as ye _catch the Snitch first_!”

Everyone howled in laughter even as Oliver hit his forehead with his playbook. Meanwhile, Hermione graciously took her bow, even holding her skirt out.

When Oliver looked at her, he was blushing profusely and a glint that told Hermione he would get her back shining in his eyes. Her demure smile turned into a cheeky grin at the unspoken challenge.

“Nothing but trouble, the lot o’ ye,” Oliver told them.

“Spot on, though,” said Illium and everyone laughed at their Captain once more.

“A may have ben a bit too enthusiastic before,” said Oliver.

“But now, you’ve remained exactly the same?” teased Draco.

“We’ve seen you from the box every game, mate,” said Blaise with a wicked grin.

Oliver could only scratch the back of his head in embarrassment, though he still held a smile. Not the smile that Hermione liked, but a cute one nonetheless.

After a few more jabs, Hermione decided she felt quite sorry for the Scot now and went to loop her arm around his.

“But seriously, though, good luck this game,” she said. “You’re a great captain and everyone in here knows it.”

And there it was. The smile that she liked. Perfect teeth, wrinkles at the corners of his sparkling eyes, could-make-the-snow-melt-from-the-mountain-tops-to-the-valleys-bellow kind of smile.

Just then, Morgenthau announced that the team needed to finish their preparations for the game. As the group wished the players and the reserves good luck, Hermione looked at the Captain.

Oliver’s eyes seemed mesmerized by her. “Ye look great, Hermione. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Oliver.” She hugged him. “Go win a match.”

Oliver whispered in her ear, “And what dae a get when we win?”

Hermione felt her whole body blush. Was she really going to do this? What should she say? She told Pansy she would not cower and she would be confident. Now that it mattered, could she really?

“Let’s have dinner.”

Hermione released him and walked back to her friends like nothing happened. When she looked back over her shoulder at Oliver, though, she found the Scot’s eyes burning a trail down her back. Holding back her blush, Hermione stood up taller and wrapped her arm around Pansy’s, squeezing a little if only to get her excitement out, before they left.

As the boys led the way up the stairs to the box, animatedly talking about how they thought the game would go, the girls had flocked over to Hermione, who was still blushing and could not hide her smile.

Mandy threw a silencing charm around them. “Spill, Hermione!”

“Are you and Oliver Wood a thing?” asked Pansy.

“He could _not_ take his eyes off you,” said Luna. “Wracksputs just seem to multiply around his head.”

Hermione giggled.

“So, are you together?” asked Ginny excitedly. “Has he asked you out? When? Have you gone on a date yet?”

“Gin, slow down,” said Hermione, her blush seemingly increasing if she were to base it on how hot her face felt. “No, we’re not going out.”

“Hogwash,” said Mandy. “The way he was looking at you – _woo_!” She fanned herself.

“Don’t deny it, Hermione,” said Ginny, cheekily pointing at her. “I could cook eggs on your face right now!”

“We really aren’t dating yet,” said Hermione.

“Yet!” shouted Luna. “So there is a possibility?”

Hermione did not speak but simply smiled happily. The girls broke out in high-pitched screeches.

“Oh, this is delicious!” said Pansy. “When did it start?”

“How did it start?” asked Mandy.

Hermione sighed. “He sent me flowers with a note inviting me to his game two days ago.”

“Two days ago?” asked Pansy in shock. “You two seemed cosy for ‘two days ago’.”

Hermione smiled and shook her head. “I don’t know. It has always been an easy friendship with Oliver, I guess. He distracted me, made me laugh. There’s something about him that I can’t place, but he makes me feel… safe.”

“So what else happened?” asked Ginny. “Did he invite you to the after party?”

“No, actually, he took me to the Wood Estate and prepared a picnic for us in their library.”

“Aww that’s so sweet,” said Mandy.

“The library?” said Pansy with a frown. “How is that sweet?”

“Don’t you see?” said Luna. “He took her to a place where he knew she would be excited, to a place he was sure she would be relaxed, a place she would find somewhat familiar. If the picnic date went well, then Hermione would be associating him with a library, that every time she enters one, her memories of their date would be triggered.” She turned to Hermione. “He’s smart. And he seems to know you well. I like him.”

Hermione wrapped Luna in her arms and squeezed. “You’re awesome, Radish Ears. Never change.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll give him that,” said Ginny. “But what happened after? Did you guys kiss? Did he ask you out?”

“Actually, we talked and he said he would like to give me all the time I need first. We can just get to know each other for now and take things slow.”

“But there is understanding there, right?” asked Mandy. “He didn’t leave you with nothing, right?”

“Mandy…”

“Hermione Jean Granger, one of the most eligible bachelors in Quidditch History and in all of Great Britain just invited you over to watch his game and took you to _his house_ and set a date for the two of you in a place you love. Tell me that you did not just let this man go!”

“I say let him dangle for a bit,” countered Pansy. “You’re Hermione Jean Granger. Let him work for the pleasure of your company.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Thankfully, she was spared the obligation of answering as they arrived at their destination. Sure enough, the group of friends had the entire box to themselves. Seeing a chance to escape, Hermione fled to Harry and they walked to the balustrade.

“Trying to get away from your interrogators?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

“Trying to spend time with my brother,” defended Hermione.

“Um-hmm…” Harry placed his elbows on the glass and looked around the stadium. “So Oliver Wood…”

“Urgh.” Hermione copied him and leaned onto the glass.

“I’ll admit it was a bit subtle.”

“Really?”

“Only if you’re blind.”

Hermione hit his arm.

“What? You were blushing like crazy and he couldn’t take his eyes off you from the moment he walked in. When you walked away and he saw your tattoo, I could’ve sworn he stopped breathing.”

“Harry!”

“What? It’s true.” Harry laughed at his pouting sister and nudged his shoulder onto her. “You like him, though?”

Hermione sighed and looked at his emerald green eyes. “I mean… we have an easy friendship. I never thought we’d get along as well as we do, but…”

Harry nodded. “I remember the two of you during my surprise birthday party last year. He made you laugh like it’s what he did for a living.”

“He’s very easy to talk to and I know I can trust him.”

Harry nodded. “And?”

“I guess now that I can actually take in the possibility… I can see it.” She smiled. “I can see us getting together. But we did talk about taking it slow and getting to know each other. I told him it would be unfair of me to just pour whatever it was I was feeling onto him. And he said he was willing to give me all the time I needed.”

“But do you still need the time? When we talked, you said you’re truly over Ron. That the tattoo is there as a symbol of you finally being free.”

“Yes, that’s still true. But there’s no need to jump into a relationship right away.”

“Why not? You can get to know each other while you’re already in one, you know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know that. But I don’t want to jump into this, Harry. I want to take my time. I want to get to know Oliver and I want him to get to know me _our way_.”

A half-smile graced Harry’s face. With a proud and contented sigh, the Auror straightened up and wrapped Hermione in a one-armed hug. “Good. I was just making sure you are thinking this through and that it isn’t a rebound situation.”

Hermione elbowed him in the gut. “Prat.”

A few more minutes and the teams were introduced. As per usual, each player called ran a lap around the stadium. Damian made sure to blow Hermione a kiss, to which she rolled her eyes. And Oliver gave her a smile that reminded her of their little bet. Stomach aflutter, Hermione realized she really wanted them to win.

As soon as the ball was tossed, every one of their friends joined Hermione and Harry by the balustrade, cheering loudly along with the thousands that attended. This time, Hermione paid close attention to the game. The Cannon’s Chasers tried several times during the beginning to shoot a score, but Oliver let none pass. Hermione did not think she ever saw such a look of concentration on his face. Dear Merlin, Hermione never thought of a focused brood to look so attractive before. Also, Oliver was clenching his jaw a lot and, sweet Morgana, never had a jaw looked so tempting!

Hermione shook her head and focused on the Quaffle, which was currently in Damian’s possession.

“Lazarev passes to Priestley,” said the commentator. “Priestley speeds down the pitch and avoids Holton and a bludger, passes to Lazarev, Lazarev throws and _he shoots_!”

The whole stadium cheered thunderously and Damian flew past the box just so he could wink at Hermione.

“I really wish he’d stop doing that,” she said. “If this gets on the _Prophet_ , I’ll shave his head.”

“And we’ll gladly help you,” chorused Fred and George.

Hermione grinned at them. Merlin, she really did love the twins.

“Gorgovitch with the Quaffle. He flies down the – oh, never mind. Barke’s Bludger got him –”

Hermione turned to Harry. “The Beater’s name is Barke?”

“Yup!”

“Wood, Barke. Who’s the other Chaser? Tree?”

Harry hesitated. “Leeves.”

Hermione howled in laughter just as Oliver blocked the Quaffle from getting into the middle ring.

“Look at him! He’s on fire right now!” commented Blaise. “Come on, Oli!”

Hermione bit her lip in an attempt to contain herself. A nudge on her side and she saw Pansy and Mandy watching her. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” said the Slytherin.

“Spill, Granger,” said the Hufflepuff.

Hermione hesitated for only a second before whispering, “I told him that if they win, we’ll be going to dinner.”

Pansy and Mandy gasped and turned to the pitch.

“COME ON, OLIVER!”

“YOU GOT THIS, OLIVER!”

Hermione laughed and joined them in cheering.

The game itself lasted for only forty-five minutes in an amazing feat. Remarkably, Oliver blocked every single attempt by the Cannons’ Chasers for a goal and Illium left their Seeker in the dust, resulting in a three hundred and twenty-to-zero match.

Everyone was in celebration. The noise outside was unbelievable! Hundreds of fans were chanting out, “PUD-DLE-MERE! PUD-DLE-MERE!” and from the skies, fireworks exploded beautifully, culminating in the Puddlemere United’s logo being displayed in brilliant lights.

Mandy called for everyone to pick up a glass of bubbly and asked for one of the elves to take their photograph as a remembrance. Everyone willingly did so, posing classily, happily and even made silly faces towards the camera.

A few minutes later, the team gate-crashed the party and more glasses were filled. Toasts and congratulations were offered and pats on the back were freely given.

“Amazing job, Oliver!” said Pansy and everyone hoorayed in agreement. “You looked so _inspired_ out there!”

“Yeah, all those wonderful blocks,” said Mandy. “You looked _motivated_.”

Hermione sipped her bubbly in what she hoped was a casual way. _Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush._

Meanwhile, Oliver was trying to hide a smile. “Yeah, Christmas is always a good win, innit?”

“ _Uh-huh_ ,” the girls meaningfully chorused.

“So, babe, were you impressed?” asked Damian, wagging his eyebrows at Hermione.

“Oh, most definitely,” she said, making Damian grin.

“Really? ‘Cause I made those shots –”

“Illium’s dive was just breath-taking. And Logan and Leeves scored so many points!”

“Yeah, but what about –”

“Keon and Barke? Fantastic!”

“Okay, but what about –”

“Oliver?” Hermione looked at the Scot, who was sniggering with everyone else, and sincerely said, “I think no one played better.”

“Heart breaking, babe,” said Damian with a pout. “Heart breaking.”

Hermione chuckled. “Okay, fine. You were quite all right, too.”

The Chaser finally broke into a smile.

When the conversation drifted from the game, Logan asked everyone of their plans for the day. Most people’s answer was spending time with family. The rest, namely Hermione, Pansy, Draco, Blaise, Dean and Seamus, remained quiet. Seamus’ parents were in Muggle Ireland and Dean’s mother was with his stepfather and step-siblings. Draco was disowned, Blaise’s mother was in France, Pansy’s parents were always absent and Hermione was an orphan.

Hermione felt her heart saddened a little. This was her first Christmas without her parents, her first as an orphan. She was an orphan…

There was a nudge on her shoulder and Hermione looked up to see Draco beside her.

“You’re pouting, Gryffindork,” he whispered, mindful of the team and their friends still sharing. “Miss your parents?”

Hermione shrugged, trying to school her features to turn neutral.

Draco smirked. “Before you spiral –”

“I am not spiralling –”

“Fine, before you douse yourself in self-pity –”

Hermione elbowed him.

Draco chuckled. “All right, before you dwell in the loss of your family, I hope you realize…” he paused and took a deep breath, as though preparing himself for what he was about to say.

“Yes?”

He gestured to their friends and shrugged. “You know…” he cleared his throat.

“What?”

“You’re really going to make me say it, won’t you?”

Big innocent eyes looked up at him. “Say what, Ickle Draco-ikins?”

The blond rolled his eyes. “Your family’s right here,” he quickly said, gesturing towards their group.

Hermione broke into a smile and playfully bumped her shoulder to his. “Aww, thanks, Ferret.”

Draco smirked.

By the time they looked up, people were making their way out the door. Oliver, however, was making his way to them.

“D’ye guys have any plans?” he asked half the group.

Harry shrugged. “Probably have lunch at –”

“No, none at all,” interrupted Pansy. “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” said Oliver, “some af the lads are coming over tae mine fer a hang and Christmas dinner. They dinnae have family here, so we’re adopting them fer the holiday. If ye guys are keen, yer more than welcome tae join us.”

Draco and Pansy subtly nudged Hermione on both sides and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Dean and Seamus voiced their agreement as well did Blaise, followed by a smirking Draco and a surely-planning-something-diabolical Pansy.

“What about you, Hermione?” the witch asked with a scheming smile. “Are you available?”

Hermione hoped that her cheeks were not burning. “Yes, I am.”

“Perrrfect,” said Pansy. Hermione wanted to hit her face with a pillow.

“A’right then. A’ll see ye doonstairs.” With that, Oliver left. As soon as he was gone, Pansy, Mandy, Luna and Ginny all giggled. Neville looked as though he was about to speak, but Hermione held up her hand.

“Don’t ask,” she said. “Just don’t.”

Jaws immediately hit the ground the moment the group landed outside of Wood manor. Hermione watched as Harry, Dean and Seamus were shocked at the mere size of the place. Exclamations and praises for the wonderful snow-capped mountains, gorgeous views and snow-covered grounds flowed like a river. Draco remarked the fountain as a “wonderful piece of art and history”. Of course, he was used to opulence, as were Blaise and Pansy, but they were still quite impressed. It baffled Hermione how different their backgrounds truly were, and what it meant for Draco to choose the side of Light over his family. Remembering the sacrifice of the Slytherin blond, she wondered if he came to her earlier because he could feel it, too, the loss of family, especially at this time of year.

An arm going around her shoulders interrupted Hermione’s musings and she looked to see Damian smiling cheekily at her.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d hex you if you ever touch me without my permission?” she said.

“Yes, you did,” said Damian. “Thank you for lovingly reminding me of it. However, it is Christmas, so I thought –”

Yellow canaries appeared out of nowhere and Harry, Dean and Seamus began to laugh.

“Mate, _run_!” Seamus shouted.

Damian looked from the birds to Hermione, who gave him a sweet smile, before saying, “ _Oppugno_.”

The birds dove and Damian ran away screaming. Meanwhile, Logan and Oliver were laughing and clapping.

The dinning room was as grand as the rest of the house and was currently packed with many delicious meals. When the group entered it, they saw Adrian and Mrs. Wood finishing the last of the decorations on the white Christmas tree at the corner of the room.

Introductions were made and holiday greetings exchanged. Damian soon joined them covered in snow and yellow feathers, but still had the audacity to wink at Hermione. He was ignored.

The game was recounted as they sat around the table and began the feast. The boys covered the highlights, while Logan and Damian talked about what the experience was like for them. Meanwhile, Pansy still kept dropping hints as she praised Oliver’s athleticism that made Hermione wish she never told the Slytherin what had happened. Oliver, on the other hand, graciously answered each one innocently, though his smile at Hermione told a different story.

As the desserts were being served, Mrs. Wood called out to Hermione.

“Ye look lovely in that dress, dear,” she said. “And a see ye’ve got a tattoo.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Hermione.

“Eleonora,” insisted the older woman.

“Yes… Eleonora,” said Hermione, blushing a bit and stealing a glance at Oliver, who was smiling at her. “I just got it done yesterday, actually. It’s of a dragon we got in the Reserve. She’s taken quite a liking to me.”

“Beautiful, beautiful,” said Mrs. Wo – Eleonora. “What’s the dragon’s name?”

“I call her Lumi, short for Luminaria. She’s capable of quite a few surprises.”

“Show her, show her,” said Pansy excitedly.

Hermione looked uncertain, but one look at Oliver and she was convinced. Standing up and turning, Hermione showed them her back and willed for her tattooed-Lumi to glow. And glow she did. The dragon on her shoulder nuzzled her fondly as those around the table gasped in awe. Hermione sat back down.

“Marvellous,” said Eleonora, her eyes alight. “Simply marvellous. A’ve never…” She smiled, cutting herself off, and looked at her sons, and Hermione realized that the matriarch _knew_ of the Viking’s Throne. That she recognized this dragon on her body. And perhaps, she already saw the answers Hermione and her team of dragon keepers were looking for.

It scared Hermione a little, to be honest. They had a very strong prospect of what this could possibly be, yet Hermione kept distancing herself from it, somehow, because of its implications. Because if Lumi was the Viking’s Throne and she was bonded to Hermione… what would that –

A faded memory stirred in the back of Hermione’s thoughts, yet she could not fully grasp it. She was unsure if it was a dream or if it was real. But there was a tingling at the back of her mind of something connected to all of this.

Damian’s loud laughter brought Hermione back to the dinning room. Apparently, Dean and Seamus said something funny. As it was, Adrian began to stand and he invited everyone to the living room for tea, served by their house-elf Dill. As the boys began to talk about Quidditch once more, Pansy struck with her diabolical plan.

“Oh, for Salazar’s sake,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Why don’t you boys just play outside if you’re going to be talking of Quidditch all day so the rest of us _normal_ people can talk in peace?”

“Tha’s a great idea,” said Adrian. “Who’s keen?”

Of course, they all were.

Talking animatedly, they all made their way to the grounds, but Pansy wickedly cut Hermione’s right thumb with her wand. “Oh, Hermione, I’m so sorry! You’re bleeding!”

Oliver turned around and told the boys to go right ahead. He jogged back to check on Hermione. “Are ye a’right?”

“No, I accidentally cut her,” said Pansy. “Do you happen to have a first aid kit somewhere? Dittany maybe? Damn my sharp nails!”

Oliver took Hermione’s hand to check on her scratch and Pansy smiled mischievously at Hermione behind his back. Meanwhile, Hermione was red in the face both from annoyance and embarrassment. On the armchair, Eleonora was hiding her smile as she sipped her tea.

“It’s nae too bad,” said Oliver. “We have dittany upstairs –”

“Oh, yes, that will help,” said Pansy, basically pushing Hermione into his arms.

“Right then,” said Oliver as he stood up and offered his arm. “Shall we, lass?”

Hermione was sure her face was bright red, but, with as much dignity as she could muster, she stood up and took his arm.

“While yer up there,” said Eleonora, “shoo her the gallery, son. Am sure she’d love it.”

“Aye, ma,” said Oliver, but Hermione could tell he was trying to stop himself from laughing.

So upstairs they went. Oliver sat Hermione down a chaise in the hallway ( _Who had chaise in the hallways?!_ ) and summoned the dittany to put on her scratch, all the while with an amused look at his face.

“Is this a bad time to say I have dittany and a fully stocked first aid kit in my bag?” Hermione asked and they both laughed.

“They’re nae very subtle, are they?” said Oliver.

“Oh, about as subtle as a Bludger.”

“But tae be fair, a’ve got naw complaints.”

“Is that so?”

“A get tae hold yer hand and spend some time with ye. What’s tae complain aboot tha’?”

Hermione smiled. “Well, I just never thought I’d see the day your mother agrees with Pansy, that’s all.”

“Dangerous, tha’.”

“Pansy generally is.”

They chuckled.

“So where is this gallery that you should be showing me?”

Oliver stood up, not relinquishing her hand, and pulled her towards one more set of stairs. Hermione’s gaze turned onto the intricately carved azure double doors of the library when they got to the next landing, but Oliver turned a corner and they entered into a high ceilinged hall. Huge windows shed light on to beautiful paintings and works of art – sculptures and statues, paintings on canvases and ceramics, portraits and landscapes, abstracts and realisms. All their beauty took Hermione aback.

“You have an art gallery in your home.” Hermione looked at him in shock. _Who has an art gallery in their home?!_

Oliver nodded. “Ma father used tae collect them when he was still alive. He used tae paint as well. Tha’s hoo we ken the Waters. Their mother, Aurora, was a witch and an artist that ma father supported.”

“What happened to her?” All Hermione knew of the Waters matriarch was that she had died years ago and her husband was a muggle who died earlier.

As they walked through the gallery, Oliver told the story of the Waters. “Jason Waters was an American who moved tae England during his teenage years. After a few years, he joined the Army and after tha’, the Muggle Aurors.”

“The police?”

“Aye, tha’. That was when he got tae meet Avienne’s father, Aleksandar Arkady. They were partners, became best mates, married witches, had kids, but unfortunately, died on the job.” Oliver stopped in front of a painting of a hand touching a tombstone as the rain pelleted down. The painting looked so real, Hermione would have thought it was a photograph. “Jason died when the boys were only twelve and Aurora follooed six years later af dragon pox. This is them there.”

On the next canvas was a portrait of a laughing couple. Aurora Waters had curly blonde hair and an angelic heart-shaped face. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with joy and mirth as she held on to her husband, a brown-skinned, black-haired handsome man whose eyes looked at her with love and adoration. They seemed the perfect couple. Then it hit Hermione that neither of these paintings moved and talked.

“These aren’t magical paintings,” she pointed out.

“Naw, Aurora liked painting moments. Snippets af time. She liked preserving the point af conflict or heartache or happiness. So she chose fer her paintings tae be stationary.”

Hermione nodded. “There is something poignant about that, isn’t it? It’s the same for me on the rare occasion that I paint portraits.”

Oliver turned to her, astonished. “Ye paint?”

Hermione nodded. “Mostly horizons and landscapes. Lumi was tattooed by my design actually.” On her shoulder, the dragon blew white smoke that went across her chest, making Hermione smile.

“Hermione, can a ask ye something?”

Hermione turned to him and saw his hesitation. “Sure, what is it?”

“Ye dinnae have tae answer if ye dinnae want tae.”

“Okay.”

Oliver shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Hoo did ye get this scar?” He touched her collarbone where tattoo-Lumi’s head was and where her purple scar began.

“Oh.” The first thought that entered Hermione’s mind was Ron walking away from her. The second was Oliver pushing her hair back as he sat with her in the Medic Bay. The third was that this was a choice. She could be truthful to Oliver or she could withhold. However, they did say that they wanted to get to know each other. If Hermione was not going to do this now, then when? If Oliver could not accept it now, he never would, no matter the time in between.

With a sigh, Hermione squeezed his hand and they began to walk around the gallery again. And she told him. She told him that the summer before her fifth year, Dumbledore had reinstated the Order of the Phoenix to counter Voldemort and they were recruiting. She told him of Sirius Black, who was wrongfully accused of a crime he did not commit and the fact that he was Harry’s godfather. She told him of Harry’s visions – the first that saved Arthur’s life and the second that warned of Sirius being tortured in the Department of Mysteries, and the confirmation that Kreacher the house-elf had given them along with his dark warning that Sirius “will never return from the Department of Mysteries.” In a panic, Harry rushed to the Ministry of Magic with her, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Ron on the back of thestrals. She told him of the trap and the battle that ensued, and of her scar, courtesy of Antonin Dolohov.

“They said if I hadn’t managed to silence him, I definitely would have died,” said Hermione as they sat on an opulent settee on the side of the gallery. “I had to drink ten potions for months afterwards and, of course, I got this as a souvenir.” She chuckled humourlessly.

Oliver had his elbows to his knees, quietly processing everything she had told him. It gave her hope, though, that he never let go of her hand, but instead constantly squeezed it and was currently rubbing circles on it.

“You saved me from him, you know? During the battle of Hogwarts.” Hermione smiled when his bottle green eyes looked at her. “His mask had fallen off and he’d seen me. I froze. It was like my body still remembered the pain he’d caused and I couldn’t move. You came in laughing and shot a spell at him, right on the chest... I never got to thank you for that.”

Oliver shook his head. “Ye saved mae first. Healed the back af ma head, remember?”

“And you saved me from two Death Eaters beforehand.” She nudged his shoulder. “Thank you, Oliver Wood… for saving me.”

Oliver smiled that smile she liked. “And thank ye, Hermione Granger, fer saving mae, tae.” He kissed the back of her hand and held it against his lips for a while more, never once looking away from her eyes. “Yer far more amazing than a could possibly imagine. Yer wan af a kind, Hermione. A dinnae think a’d ever meet anyone else like ye if a live tae be three hundred.”

Hermione smiled, melting at his words. But still, a small, insecure part of her mind shouted negativity and doubts. It reminded her of her imperfections, of her deficiency. How could someone like Oliver be attracted to her?

Oliver kissed her hand again. “Yer beautiful.”

Hermione turned her face away. No, _he_ was beautiful. He was perfect and flawless and –

Oliver turned her chin back to him so he could look into her eyes. “Hermione, ye are.” There was something in his eyes that saw it was not properly sinking into her, however, so he pulled up his long sleeves and pointed out his scars to her. “This a got when a broke ma thumb. Here is a scar from a fence that had nicked mae when a was a wean. This is from when ma elbow shattered and the bone pierced the skin.” He let go of her hand and lifted his shirt to show his ridiculously toned torso. “This is when a fell aff ma broom ontae the roses ma mother has, thorns everywhere. Tha’ was a nightmare. This is when a fell aff a tree. This wan’s from the Battle.” He put his shirt to rights. “Am a atrocious tae ye?”

“No!”

“Does having these scars change hoo ye see mae?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then neither does yers. Neither does _both_ af yers.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it again. “Yer still beautiful. Yer still wicked smart. Yer still wan af the most caring people a’ve ever met in ma life.”

Hermione had to blink back the tears and swallow back the lump on her throat, but her smile said it all. This was the right decision, and Oliver proved he was well deserving of her trust and her time. “Thank you, Oli.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

From downstairs, they could hear the others coming in from the Quidditch pitch. Damian was making a ruckus, so his team had probably won.

“Should we head back?”

“A dinnae want tae just yet.”

“Neither do I.”

From downstairs, they hear Damian shouting, “Oliver! Where are you, mate?”

“A might kill him.”

“Need help?”

Oliver chuckled.

“Can I ask you for something?”

“Anything.”

Hermione let her thumb caress his as she came to a decision. “When you have time, maybe after the Quidditch season is over… will you teach me how to fly a broom?”

Oliver’s smile brightened a bit more. “Absolutely.”

Hermione smiled right back. In the peace of the moment, Hermione took in the grounded calm that was Oliver Wood. To her, he seemed to always be in control and nothing could faze him. He was secure. He knew what he wanted and strove for it. And the way he accepted her scars… it left Hermione in awe and feeling grateful.

“There you are!”

Hermione sighed as she saw Damian come in behind Oliver. The Scot merely winked at her one last time before facing his teammate.

“Hey, who won?” he asked.

“We did,” Damian boasted. “I scored more than Logan, just saying. Babe, you should have seen me. And Potter’s an amazing Seeker!”

“A trained him, didnae a?”

“But I never thought he was that – are you two holding hands?”

Oliver looked down at his and Hermione’s hands like it was the first time he was seeing it, then he looked at Hermione, whose face remained impassive, gauging how she would like to play this.

Feeling confident in herself and confident of the fact that Oliver still wanted her, Hermione plucked up her Gryffindor courage and leaned over to kiss his cheek, which made Damian gasp like she had gutted him.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” she told Oliver and walked away. She paused by Damian. “You are not to tell anyone. The moment that you do, I’ll make sure bats come out of your nose.” And off she went.

***

“Mate, is this for real?” Damian asked as Oliver watched Hermione retreating from the gallery.

“What is?”

“Are you two, you know, seeing each other?”

The Scot regarded his friend’s open curiosity. “We’re getting tae knoo each other.”

Damian took the seat Hermione had vacated. “Yeah, but we both know where that ends up, right?”

“A can only hope.”

Damian smiled. “You know I think she’s cute, but I’m just trying to get a rise out of her, right?”

“A dae.”

“And you know I’m very supportive of you getting her, right?”

Oliver laughed as he got up, Damian following him, and they made their way back downstairs. “If Hermione ever hears ye say tha’, ye’d be hexed by noo and getting a very lang speech aboot hoo women are nae something ye ‘get’.”

“See? You understand her so well! But this is like serious between you two?”

“Aye, it is.”

“Cool, cool, but you know I’m not letting her off the hook just because you’re – er – _pursuing things_ with her, right?”

Oliver rolled his eyes. How can this man who was a few years older than him still be as immature as he was since his days at Hogwarts? “Yer funeral, mate.”

“Yeah, but she’s cute when she’s all flustered and annoyed.” Damian chuckled. “It’ll never get old. One day, we’ll be best friends.”

“Nae happening.”

“Bet. One day.” The raven-haired wizard ran to the living room ahead of Oliver just as another raven-haired wizard walked out.

“There you are,” said Harry. “I was just going to say Merry Christmas and goodbye.”

“Yer going?”

“Yeah, mum expects me in the Burrow for Christmas dinner, so.”

“Ah, before ye go…” Oliver glanced inside the living room, but could not see Hermione. She was probably avoiding Damian. “A was wondering if a could talk tae ye.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Leading the younger wizard further down the hall towards the fireplace, Oliver found himself suddenly nervous – which was ridiculous. This was Harry. Just Harry. He’d known the guy since he was eleven. He’d introduced him to Quidditch and trained him, for Morgana’s sake.

Still, now the man was an Auror and protective of Hermione. _Very_ protective of Hermione. The Scot cleared his throat. Was it hot? Why was it suddenly hot? The fireplace was on. That was probably it.

“Something on your mind?” Harry asked.

“Um… well, actually…” Oliver cleared his throat again. “A wanted tae ask fer yer blessing.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Yer Hermione’s brother and a ken hoo close ye are tae each other. A wanted tae tell ye that a like her and a want tae – er – a want tae be with her. If she chooses tae let me.”

Harry’s other eyebrow joined the other near his hairline. “I see… You know Hermione can see whoever she wants to, right?”

“Aye, a ken tha’. But out of respect fer ye and fer hooever lang we’ve knoon each other, a wanted tae let ye knoo. A like yer sister. A promise a’d treat her right; nae tha’ she’d ever let mae get away with anything less, a’d imagine, but there ye go.”

Harry crossed his arms and Oliver was unsure if that was a good sign or not. “You’re right, we have known each other for a very long time. But I’ve known Ron longer and look how that turned out. I’m not saying you’re like him, Oliver, I’m really not. But how do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

Not a good sign then. _Bollocks_. “A can only dae ma best –”

“Not good enough.”

 _Shite._ “A care fer her –”

“So does a lot of people.”

“A’ll never hurt her –”

“You’re a Quidditch player with a lot of women throwing themselves at you.”

Oliver sighed. He really hoped this would have gone better. “Look, am nae gaunnae say tha’ a love her just tae convince ye. Right noo, am trying tae give her the time she needs tae make sure she’s a’right and she’s ready. A want her tae knoo mae and ma intentions, so tha’ she could trust mae. When she dos and when she’s ready, a want tae shoo her hoo a feel. A want tae treat her right and give her all the respect she deserves. The lass isnae difficult tae like, Harry, and the more time a spend with her, the more a realize tha’. She’s something else and am done standing back watching some other numptie waste her time and treat someone tha’ a think the world af like bloody rubbish. A knoo am good fer her. A knoo she’s who a want. And tha’s tha’. A dinnae care aboot another lass. Hermione’s it fer mae. A knoo tha’ tae the depths af ma bones. She’s it.”

Slowly, Harry’s arms uncrossed. “All right,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “You have my blessing.”

“What?”

Harry chuckled. “You have my blessing. Should Hermione choose you, I will not have any objections.” He patted the Scot on the shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Oliver. I’m using your floo, by the way.” Just like that, the raven-haired wizard took floo powder and shouted for the Burrow before disappearing in green flames.

Meanwhile, Oliver still stood there speechless. Was that it? No threats, no buts, no ‘if you hurt my sister, I’ll…’ speech?

A hand lifted his chin up to close his mouth and Oliver looked beside him to see Hermione gazing at him with amusement and something he could not place twinkling in her eyes.

“Hoo lang have ye been standing there?”

“Long enough,” she said and wound her hand in his, while her other wrapped around his bicep. Keeping her eyes in his, she kissed his shoulder. “People are starting to wonder where you are,” she whispered.

Oliver’s heart was thumping hard inside his chest. Maybe it was because Harry just gave him his blessing. Maybe it had something to do with Hermione’s proximity and the fact that she had heard what he had said and showed her appreciation by that kiss. Or maybe because standing this close to her, Oliver could actually just lean down and kiss her.

Oliver slowly swivelled around to face her and put a lock of her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers trail down her neck to her shoulder. “In a minute,” he whispered back.

Under his ministrations, Lumi began to wiggle as though she liked what Oliver was doing. And if the tattoo liked it, so did Hermione. Oliver ran a finger back and forth on her collarbone, feeling the scar underneath – the scar that _no other person_ in Britain in the history of _two wars_ had ever lived through, except her. With that thought in his head, he could not help the awed whisper that came out of him. “Yer so fucking brilliant.” And he watched as Lumi responded by glowing, Hermione by sighing.

When green eyes met chocolate brown, Oliver almost melted. She was looking at him with adoration. As though she was just as in awe of him as he was of her. As though she was thankful and grateful of him like he was of her.

Oliver smiled and stepped closer, his hand pulling her waist to him, before he brought his lips down and kissed her shoulder. “Ye’ll never cease tae amaze mae, Miss Granger.” He kissed right over her scar and felt Hermione freeze. Before he could think he had done something wrong, however, she embraced him and then cried.


	25. Family Affair

Hermione walked into the Crèche’s Incubation Ward and was immediately greeted by happy screeches. Luminaria got so excited that she jumped out of her incubator. Hermione had to dive to catch the little thing. Seeing her example, Nazuri tried to jump out of Michan’s grip as well.

“Behave, you two,” said Hermione with a laugh. “You really missed me, didn’t you?”

Michan passed the squirming Fireball onto her. “Yes, they did. Nazuri burned the muffin I brought up here with me yesterday morning and did not stop crying for _two hours_.”

“Oh no!” Hermione nuzzled Nazuri, who at the moment was making low, soft growls of contentment at the attention he was getting from her. “You naughty, naughty, Nazuri. Did you give Michan a hard time?”

The newborn gave a soft screech and looked so proud, Michan had to laugh as he removed his dragon hide jacket and gloves.

“Not even a little remorse. Look at that face!”

Meanwhile, Luminaria was prodding the nose of her tattooed self on Hermione’s collarbone. She, too, emitted contented, happy growls and blew white smoke at Hermione’s face before nuzzling again.

“Aww… Look at that,” cooed Avienne as she entered the Ward. “They missed their mummy.”

“Hey, Vivi,” said Hermione and kissed the woman on the cheek. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, honey! How was it?”

Hermione blushed and smiled and Avienne’s eyebrow arched. This was going to be a very good story; she could sense it.

“Michan, we’re talking the newborns to the playing pit!” With that, Avienne grabbed the younger witch and all but dragged her out. “All right, I’ve been _dying_ to hear all about this. Apparently, you got a tattoo from Nicky?”

“Yup.”

“Of Lumi?”

“Yup.”

“On your back?”

“Yup.”

“And you got kidnapped by a Ridgeback?”

Hermione squinted. “Not exactly.”

“Urgh, why do interesting things happen when I’m unavailable? Start talking!”

“Okay, so I went to Oliver’s game, right?”

“How was it?”

Hermione grinned widely and told her every single detail.

***

Charlie woke up the morning after Christmas when a heavy weight jumped on his bed and flopped onto his chest. Flinching and very much expecting to see Nazuri, he was a bit surprised when the red he saw was his sister’s hair.

“Morning, Charlie-bunny,” greeted Ginny cheekily.

“Hey, Gin-bug,” croaked Charlie, voice thick with sleep.

His little sister giggled and tickled his bearded chin. “You seemed ready for a fight there.”

Charlie rubbed his eyes. “Nazuri usually jumps on my stomach to wake me up. I was preparing for the brat to start biting my collar.”

The youngest Weasley laughed. “He is a mischievous little tyke, isn’t he? I bet Fred and George would love him.”

“They’d prefer Lumi. That little one orchestrates daring escapades and she’s not even a month old.”

“Hermione’s Lumi?”

“That’s the one. She also convinced a whelp that a friend of ours was doing a check-up on to jump another dragon keeper just so she could eat his scone.”

“What?” Ginny laughed. “I thought they were all cute and cuddly?”

“Adherion is. Nazuri and Lumi are trouble.”

Ginny lay next to him and hugged him. “I wish I could see them. You and Hermione must have a lot of fun taking care of them.”

Charlie wrapped an arm around her. “When they’re not throwing tantrums, yeah, they’re fun.”

“They’re throwing tantrums?”

“Oh yeah. There were times when Nazuri would only sleep when Hermione sings to him, especially when he was newly hatched. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to feed him, not even me. Now he’s almost two months old and he still gets clingy like that. He bit Michan for trying to sing to him once.”

“What about Lumi?”

“Lumi wakes up at night because of nightmares. She’d cry until Hermione sings to her. It’s the only way she’d calm down. Thinking about that now, I wonder how the guys at the Crèche are doing.”

Ginny squeezed him a bit tighter. “Don’t go yet.”

Charlie yawned and stretched. “Have to soon, Gin. My shift starts today.”

His little sister propped herself up by her elbow, a serious look on her face conflicting with nervousness and hesitation.

“What is it?” Charlie asked, scratching his naked chest.

Ginny frowned. “Something happened and… we didn’t tell anyone because, well, it’s a private matter. Plus we didn’t want to ruin Christmas. Mum worked really hard and she was already bummed Hermione would not be here, so we did not want to add to it. But I talked to Harry, Fred and George last night after dinner and we thought it might be helpful if you knew. Maybe you can help, being in the Reserve and all.”

Charlie sat up, wiped his face and gave his sister his full attention. “All right. What’s up?”

Ginny sat up as well and leaned on the headboard. “When the girls and I went out during Christmas Eve, we ran into the boys… and Ron. He had been drinking – not enough to fall on his face, but _enough_. He kept trying to talk to Hermione, to touch her, but she was pulling away. You could tell she did not want to be dealing with him. She just wanted to have a few drinks and have fun with the girls, you know, especially since Luna and I have been away at Hogwarts and that was the first time in ages that all of us were together.”

Charlie nodded.

“But Ron wasn’t leaving her alone, so we all went to this room to talk it out. He said Hermione’s been avoiding him and that she threw them away without giving them a chance.”

A sigh came out of Charlie and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. What in the world was his brother thinking?

“He was telling her that he loved her, but she said that if he really did love her, he would not have lied or cheated. She said he should face the consequences of his mistakes.”

“As he should.”

“Right…”

When his sister did not continue, Charlie looked at her. Now she did not hide her hesitation. Charlie could tell Ginny was second-guessing whether or not she should go through with it and it seemed as if leaving this room was the winning option. Which begged the question: what the hell did Ron do? “Gin?”

The redhead swallowed. “Well – um – when Hermione told Ron they will never get back together, he kind of…”

“What?”

“He got angry.”

That was typical. “And?”

Ginny blurted it out quickly. “He kind of accused Hermione of being with you while he’s trying to make things right between them.”

Charlie was confused. “Being with me?”

Ginny’s eyes were cautious, as though anticipating him to lose his temp – oh… _Oh_ … Ron was not accusing Hermione of being with him in the Reserve, but being in a _relationship_ with him. That was terrible, but not enough for him to lose his temper. It must be more than them being toge – oh. Ron was accusing her of _sleeping_ with him.

Charlie felt his ears go red. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he stood up to pace. “What else did he say?”

Ginny shook her head, refusing.

“Ginevra Molly Weasley, you tell me right now, or I will ask the twins and they will be far more generous with every single detail –”

“Fine. Fine!” Ginny sighed. “Ron said… Ron said, ‘tell me, Hermione, how does he like your scars?’”

The pacing stopped. Charlie made up his mind. He was going to punch Ron. Regardless of what his mother and father might say, he would punch the bastard. “What else happened?”

“Hermione had enough. She turned to me and she told me everything. She said the first time Ron slept with Amelie Dufort was the day she collapsed and was rushed to St. Mungo’s. The second was after she found out that her parents died and the third…” Ginny wiped her watering eyes. “The third was the night of her birthday, right after he saw her naked.”

Those details Charlie did not know. “Were those her exact words?”

Ginny nodded and wiped her eyes again. “And what makes me feel so damn disgusted is the fact that Hermione said Ron saw her scars and just hated them _so much_ that he walked out on her. Her words.” She angrily wiped the tears that were rapidly falling. As a woman, which Charlie guessed his little sister was fast becoming, she could relate to the degradation, anger and humiliation that such an incident caused far better than Charlie ever could even imagine. “And that’s not all of it, Char. Hermione said that Ron made her feel so insecure and unworthy and less than a woman, and all that time, he was fucking that Amelie Dufort woman. And he apologized to her for making her feel bad about herself, Char. That’s the twisted part. He would drag her through that, apologize and then do it all over again, all the while, cheating on her on top of it all.”

“Amelie Dufort?”

“Yeah, that woman –”

“No, I get that. But how did Hermione know her name?”

Ginny shrugged. “I thought you guys knew her name? Nobody told _me_ a damn thing. How would I know?”

“No, I was there when Hermione confronted Ron. She never mentioned the woman by name. Mandy said she did not know her name either. All they knew about her was that she was a bookstore owner from France.”

“Maybe Hermione looked it up.”

“No, she wouldn’t. She never even mentioned them at the Reserve.”

“Maybe the papers?”

Charlie shook his head still. “I’ve read the articles Skeeter wrote. Not one mention of her name. Unless…”

_“She was talking to a woman. I was on my way in when I saw her run out. She was distraught that she didn’t hear me. There was this woman in Central wearing a traveling cloak that was crying, too.”_

Charlie ran his hand over his face at the memory of Raphael’s words. “Fuck, she met her. Hermione _met_ the bloody woman!”

“What?”

“Hermione had finally broken down the other day. I had been waiting for it since they broke up, but she _never_ cried. She went away to Oliver’s match all excited and when she came back, a co-worker of ours said he saw her talking to a woman in a traveling cloak, who was crying. And Hermione ran out of there distraught, crying, too. It was her. It was that woman. How else could Hermione have known her name?”

Without waiting another minute, Charlie stormed out of his room and went downstairs where he could hear Ron and Percy talking. As soon as he saw his youngest brother’s face, Charlie saw red. One punch and Ron crumpled to the ground, but it was not enough. Charlie picked him up by the scruff of his shirt, threw him against the wall and punched him again.

“Charlie!”

“CHARLIE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

His brothers’ and mother’s screams did nothing to quench his anger and Charlie held the bastard’s neck, ready to punch him a third time when he felt someone hold on to his arm and another try to pull him away from Ron.

“CHARLIE, THAT’S ENOUGH!” shouted his father.

“Not nearly,” ground out Charlie.

“Pull him off! Get him off!” Arthur instructed and Percy, Fred, George and Harry did, but not before Charlie could kick Ron hard enough to watch him fall to the ground.

“What has gotten into you!” shouted his mother. “I said that’s enough, Charles Weasley!”

“Not nearly enough, mum!” Charlie shouted back, allowing his brothers to keep their hold on him. “That piece of shit accused Hermione of sleeping with me while he was ‘trying’ to make things right between them. Even said, ‘how does he like your scars, Hermione?’ And in front of all their friends, too!”

Molly looked at her youngest son. “Is that true?”

“He made a scene at the club,” said Fred, letting go of Charlie. “If it wasn’t for Harry’s quick thinking, they’d be in the papers again come Christmas morning.”

“When did this happen?” asked Arthur.

“Christmas Eve,” said George, letting go as well.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Molly.

“I made Ginny tell me about it,” said Charlie, taking the blame and shaking off Percy and Harry. “Hermione did not want anyone else to know, of course. She’s probably too embarrassed to cause a fuss. But that _idiot_ –” Charlie pointed at Ron “– has been getting way with it and has taken advantage of the fact that Hermione doesn’t talk. And by the way, his mistress went and saw Hermione the other day!”

Ron looked up, eyes wide and frightened.

“What?” asked Molly, looking aghast. “Why? What did she want?”

“I don’t know,” said Charlie, “but Hermione was crying afterward and apparently, so was the woman.”

“Who told you?” asked Percy.

“Raphael saw them,” said Charlie, “but I didn’t connect the dots until now. How else would Hermione have known her name?”

Realization dawned on Harry and the twins as well.

“Are you still seeing that whore?” asked Fred aggressively.

“Fredrick!” chastised Molly. She was ignored.

Ron shook his head. “No, I swear.”

“Did you tell her it’s over?” asked Fred.

Ron hesitated.

“Don’t bloody tell me,” said George, mug tightly gripped in his hand, “that you just stopped seeing the woman without giving her some sort of explanation or admittance of the truth?”

Ron ducked his head in shame.

George threw his drink then his mug at Ron just as his twin and Charlie made to attack him again, but Arthur stood in the way.

“Go to your brother’s at Shell Cottage!” their father ordered. “I will not have my children turn on each other! Now, go!”

Percy dragged Fred and George and threw floo powder onto the fireplace. He basically had to shove them in as both were still shaking in anger. Harry followed after them. Meanwhile, Ginny pulled Charlie along.

A floo travel and a very strong coffee later, the Weasley siblings and their adopted brother sat around the dining table at Shell Cottage staring at the wooden thing angrily like it, too, had cheated on Hermione. Everyone else was in their pyjamas, except for Charlie, who always slept with his shirt off and did not get the sense to pick it up before he pommeled his brother. No matter, the coffee was helping with the cold and he always ran hot anyway.

Harry had recounted to Bill and Fleur what had happened at the Burrow as the couple was surprised by the sudden influx of guests in their home this early the morning after Christmas. After they had settled in the kitchen, he, the twins and Ginny all gave a detailed account of what happened at Christmas Eve while Bill cooked them breakfast.

Fleur shook her head, worry lining her beautiful features. “And ‘ow is ‘Ermione now?” she asked.

“She was doing very well yesterday, actually,” said Harry. “I think talking to that woman was the final push she needed to move on with her life and finally shut that chapter with Ron. When she faced him again that Christmas Eve, I don’t think she was as affected as she would have been if she did not see the woman.”

“That’s a good thing then,” said Bill, adding more eggs into the pan.

Percy nodded in agreement beside Charlie. “A painful thing to have gone through, but it had helped her in the end.”

Harry nodded and then sighed. “I want to tell you lot something,” he said, “but it’s to remain strictly between us.”

All the Weasleys nodded their heads.

“Oliver asked for my blessing yesterday,” said Harry. “He’s pursuing things with Hermione.”

“I knew there was something going on,” said George, smiling at his twin. “Oli was smiling.”

“Like Gryffindor-just-won-the-Quidditch-Cup smiling,” said Fred.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “That was your clue?”

“Well, yeah,” said the eldest twin. “Wait, what was yours?”

“That Hermione was blushing like crazy,” said Ginny matter-of-factly.

“Hermione blushes like _that_ ,” said George, snapping his finger.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Bill. “Does she like him back?”

They all looked at Harry and Ginny. Ginny sipped her coffee, not giving anything away.

“I talked to Hermione,” said Harry and Charlie held his breath. “She’s giving it a shot.”

Fred and George cheered even as Charlie’s chest tightened just a bit more.

“And she is not rushing zis?” asked Fleur.

Harry shook his head. “No, she isn’t. I made sure of it. She said they’re getting to know each other first.”

Percy looked proud of that answer. “She isn’t the type to go into a situation without knowing all the facts. And given the circumstances, I would assume she intends do right by Oliver and herself by ensuring her feelings are astute.”

“And what did you tell Oliver when he asked for your blessing?” asked Bill.

Harry grinned in an almost Draco-like manner. “I made him sweat a little.”

Fred and George clapped his back and laughed.

“Well done, Harry!” said Fred.

“Never thought you had it in you,” said George.

“But in the end, I gave my blessing,” said Harry.

“Why?” asked Ginny curiously and Charlie looked at the bespectacled man before him, curious, too.

Harry had a thoughtful look on his face. “Because I can see Hermione’s happy,” he said simply and Charlie sighed. In the end, that was what was important, right? That she was happy? How could Charlie begrudge her that when he had seen her tears more than anyone else in this room?

“That’s good,” he said, and found he had no hard feelings about it. “If Hermione’s happy, then that’s good. But do me a favour.” Charlie leaned forward. “If Oliver hurts her, I get to bring a dragon to burn him with.”

“OHH!” The twins laughed and applauded him.

Percy hid his smile by pretending to sip coffee, but Charlie knew he approved. Ginny rolled her eyes, but Harry grinned.

“Deal.”

Charlie and Percy flooed to the Burrow after each other and heard sniffs from the living room. Cautiously and quietly, they peered over expecting to see their mother having a cry. Instead, however, they saw Molly with a stranger sitting on their couch. The woman was familiar to Charlie and she was wearing a travelling cloak. It was her. Amelie Dufort. What the hell was she doing here?

Percy nudged him and mouthed, ‘ _Stomach_.’

When Charlie looked at the woman’s stomach, the reason for Hermione’s breakdown became apparent. The woman’s stomach jutted out. What twisted Charlie’s gut, though, through years of seeing his mother pregnant with his siblings, was that she was approximately four to five months pregnant. If that was the case, it meant she got pregnant in September.

“I am very sorry,” the woman was telling Molly in a thick French accent. “I do not ‘ave family anywhere. I do not kno’ what to do wiz ze bébé when it comes. I did not mean to –”

“Hush, dear, it is not your fault,” said Molly gently. “You have every right to seek for assistance from the father of your child.”

Charlie went past Percy and, ignoring the two women on the couch, went straight to his room. He tried to be objective and not place the blame on the pregnant woman downstairs for coming into his family’s house. His mother was right; this pregnancy was not _just_ her fault. However, having said that, what was she expecting to happen? Charlie hoped his father was having a good chat with Ron about responsibility, because on his own, Charlie highly doubted Ron would give up his life for any cause.

As he took a quick shower, Charlie thought through the possible implications of what happened today. His relationship with his brother was ruined and, truth be told, he was not seeing it getting better anytime soon. Ron had effectively made himself an outcast in his own family, and now he had a pregnant woman downstairs carrying his child. Meanwhile, Hermione was slowly opening herself up to the idea of being with Oliver.

Charlie made quick work of dressing and went back downstairs to bid goodbye to his mother and Percy, who had stuck around to talk to the woman. He was already late for work. And all this drama after Christmas was not improving his mood.

As soon as he got back to Central, Charlie banished his bag to his cottage, took a broom and flew over to the moss and vine covered structure. The moment he entered the Crèche, the first thing he heard was Nazuri’s cries. Avienne and Hermione were by the pit, trying to calm the weeping newborn. Lumi was with Michan, looking worriedly at the Fireball.

“Charlie! There you are!” said Avienne.

Hermione turned to him with worry in her eyes while the weeping newborn in her arms began to reach for Charlie.

“What’s going on?” he asked as he took off his jacket and, dropping it on the ground, took Nazuri. The little Fireball clutched at his flannel with his small claws and spread his wings over him as though encompassing him in a hug. His whines continued as though he was very upset and rumbles came from his chest every now and again, as though from great sadness.

Charlie did his best to sway and comfort the little dragon. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. Dada’s here now…” It was as though something in him could feel the dragon’s distress.

Avienne touched Hermione’s arm, a worried expression on her face, and nodded her head to Charlie in a universal sign for ‘Talk to him’ before going down to the pit towards Michan and Lumi. However, Hermione did not interrogate him right away but helped him to calm Nazuri by running her fingers up and down the newborn’s spine. She hummed as the two of them swayed the little one. Not too long after, Nazuri calmed enough to fall asleep. That was when the little witch looked up at him.

“Are you okay?” asked Hermione in a low voice, her eyes full of concern.

Charlie shook his head and sighed. “I punched Ron this morning.”

“Why?”

“Ginny told me what happened the other night, what he said to you.”

Hermione shook her head. “Charlie, you didn’t –”

“And why didn’t you tell me you saw his mistress?”

That made her stop.

“Well?”

“Because… this thing has gone far enough, don’t you think? It was supposed to be between him and me. Now your family and our friends are getting dragged into it. Charlie, that’s not right.”

“Why not? After everything he put you through –”

“It is not your job to save me, Charlie.” She did not say it harshly or in a mean way, but in a gentle manner, yet the punch it had still made Charlie’s insides hurt. “I may not deal with things the way other people do or want me to, but look at me. I’m okay. I’ve dealt with it healthily and I am moving on. Finally. And for me, that’s a win. You did not need to defend me or to punch him. All I ever needed from you was what you’ve already given me, and that’s your support, Charlie.” She smiled at him and touched his arm. “You’re a good friend. But things between me and your brother are just that – between me and him.”

Charlie nodded and left it alone. How could he possibly explain it to her? How could he say that seeing her hurt made him hurt? What words could he possibly use to convey how much she meant to him or how much he wanted to see her happy? How could he put to words the fact that he was ready to throw his own flesh and blood for a woman whose friendship meant the world to him? In what universe did that make sense? His chest ached. His heart ached.

Charlie bowed his head down and instead focused his attention on the little red dragon in his arms. Nazuri was emanating a soft purr in his sleep, which meant he was feeling calm and better. Charlie breathed in deep and tried to channel that calm.

“How was Christmas, though?” asked Hermione.

“Good. It was a lot of fun having all of us there. Andromeda came in with Teddy and Harry spoiled that little one rotten. Mum’s been asking for you, though.”

Hermione smiled sadly. “I would love to visit her some time. I do miss her and dad. If possible, I’d love to see Teddy, too.”

Charlie smiled. “They would like that.”

“By the way, did you like my gift?” She smiled cheekily.

Charlie smiled at her with a promise that he would get her back. “You just had to, didn’t you?”

“You can call him Rory-bunny Junior if you want.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. He could still remember roaring in laughter when he opened Hermione’s gift and was greeted with a Fireball stuffed toy bigger than his first. “Actually, I named _her_ Mia-bunny.”

“Aww so cute!” Hermione giggled. “What else happened today?”

“Oh, you know, Ron’s pregnant mistress is at the Burrow, talking to mum.”

“What?!”

Avienne and Michan looked over to the two of them.

“Sorry,” said Hermione. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry.” She turned back to Charlie, who was smirking and soothing Nazuri, who flinched but was, thankfully, still asleep. “What is she doing there?”

“She’s freaking out about having the baby, I guess. And she has no other family.”

Hermione sighed. “I figured that much when she came here. What did Ron say?”

“I didn’t see him and dad when Percy and I got back.”

“Got back? Where did you go?”

“Dad kicked the lot of us to Shell Cottage when the twins and I – well, it wasn’t pretty.”

“Even Fred and George?”

Charlie nodded.

Hermione exhaled heavily. “I wish things would go back to normal, I really do.”

“What about you? How was your Christmas?”

“It was wonderful. The lads, Pansy and I had Christmas dinner with the Woods. It was amazing.”

“And Oli?”

Her smile could light up a room. “We’re going well. They won the game, three hundred and twenty to zero, so the boys were on a high. And when we found time alone, I told him about my scar, the one from Dolohov.” She shook her head, her eyes lighting up as it saw beyond what was here and back to wherever it was she and Oliver were alone. “He was really sweet about it. Really understanding and accepting of it all. And Harry likes him, which is a huge bonus. And he’s really serious about me, so…” She giggled. “Sorry, I know you don’t want to hear about this –”

“I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself. For what it’s worth, you deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks, Charlie. Merry Christmas.” She kissed his cheek and went down to where Avienne and Michan were trying to entertain Lumi.

“Merry Christmas…” Charlie muttered, but he smiled, too. After summoning his jacket from the ground, he took the little Fireball up to the Incubation Ward, his thoughts echoing back to Hermione’s words and her smile and her happiness.

Charlie recalled his promise to himself. What ever it took… She was happy. Things were going well with Oliver. He was fulfilling that promise. It was just such an inconvenience to finally admit to himself that he was feeling something for her now.

***

The dragons had calmed down for the rest of the day, though Hermione and Avienne excitedly made notes on their new and exciting discovery that Charlie’s emotions affected Nazuri. Baffled and confused about the phenomena, Hermione wrote all of it in detail in her journal. She could not wait for the New Year when they could get to visit the Wood archives. Could it be possible that there were two Riders arising? She shook her head. She should not get ahead of herself. They needed facts and, as Avienne told her from the very beginning, she should not colour any of these occurrences with her opinion. Hopefully, by the New Year, all these would make sense then.

With each passing day, Hermione found herself exchanging letters with Oliver. Puddlemere United was back on training and as soon as the New Year arrived, the rest of the season would continue. He also reminded her of their dinner, which she teased him about already having during Christmas. The Scot’s reply was that when he pictured them having _that_ dinner, he was hoping for it to just be the two of them.

The more she opened herself up to the possibility of getting to know Oliver for the purpose of being with him, the more Hermione found herself smiling and acting like a typical teenage girl, which she supposed was a phase she never went through. Now, though, there was no immediate danger and no need to save the wizarding world and no need to help or stop her brother from something crazy. Now, her time was her own and she was spending it as she pleased with whomever she pleased. And apparently, Oliver was top of the list, though not the only person there.

“I’m going to have tea with your mother tomorrow,” Hermione told Charlie as they ate lunch at the cafeteria. It was one of those days when the newborns were acting up, so at the moment, Luminaria was curled up on the table beside her and Nazuri was biding his time before trying to steal Charlie’s steak. Hermione did not tell the dragon keeper; she wanted to see what Nazuri would do… for research purposes, of course.

“She’d love that,” said Charlie, putting down the copy of the _Wizarding Herald_ that he was reading. “Did you tell her already?”

“Uh-huh. She replied to me just this morning.”

“That’s good.” Charlie lifted the newspaper back up and Nazuri made his move. The little dragon went for the small piece of steak Charlie had already cut up and quickly chewed it before going back to his place near Luminaria.

Hermione chuckled and Charlie looked at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said and cut up her cheesy, garlic-roasted asparagus.

Charlie shrugged and began to read the paper again. And once more, Nazuri scuttled to his plate and took a big bite of his mashed potatoes. The little dragon did not seem to like that very much, but went back to his place nonetheless. Just in time, Charlie cut two more pieces of steak, ate one and left the other speared on his fork. When he lifted the paper once more, Nazuri sauntered over and went for the steak. However, since it was in the fork, the moment he tried to take it, the fork jostled against the plate and Charlie looked over.

“Nazuri!” The redhead picked up the little Fireball just as Nazuri managed to remove the meat from its prison. He ate it in front of Charlie, who was shaking his head at the sheer daring of the little dragon. Meanwhile, Hermione was shaking with laughter, as were Avienne and Memphis and a few more dragon keepers that were watching.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charlie asked, narrowing his eyes at Hermione.

“Um… research purposes?” she responded. “Nazuri is only two months old and he’s taken into eating meat well.”

“Uh-huh. But try to take away his milk and let’s see how badly he burns you.”

“He won’t burn me. He loves me. Memphis on the other hand…” Hermione smiled cheekily at the hazel-eyed dragon keeper.

“Those two have favouritism,” Memphis pouted.

Still chuckling and highly amused, Hermione continued to eat her food, while Charlie set aside his newspaper to keep an eye on the little Fireball as he ate.

Nazuri curled down beside Luminaria in what Hermione could only assume as an attempt to put Charlie at ease, because she sure was not buying it.

“So, are you coming to the Burrow or is mum coming here?” asked Charlie.

“I’m going there,” said Hermione. “I’ve missed Christmas. I wanted to make it up to her.”

Charlie nodded. They were taking the New Year’s shift and letting Memphis, Avienne and the Ninja Turtles celebrate. It was only fair. “Well, I’m sure she’d love to see you again.”

Hermione smiled. She owed that woman more than she could say and she loved Molly like her own mother. Hopefully, in time, this whole mess with Ron would blow over and she would be able to see the family again without all the awkwardness.

A parchment crane landed in front of Hermione and Charlie eyed it with an eyebrow raised. Hermione tapped it with her wand and the origami crane unfolded.

“What’s that?” asked Charlie. “Got another admirer?”

“Just someone wishing me a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year.” She smiled.

“Seems too long for just that.”

“There’s a poem.”

“Huh.”

Hermione put the parchment down and just as she was about to put her food in her mouth, Luminaria sneezed and set the parchment on fire. Charlie laughed out loud and petted the black-scaled dragon.

“Well done, Lumi! That was very well aimed, too.”

Not to be outdone, Nazuri breathed a short burst of fire from his nostrils and sped up the burning process.

Charlie laughed and petted him, too. “Very good, Nazuri. Here’s a steak. Well done!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. She had an overprotective brother, two overprotective dragons and an overprotective Charlie. Great.

New Year’s Eve saw Hermione coming out of the floo in the Burrow and to her surprise, it was not Molly who greeted her.

“ _Ma belle! Content de te revoir!_ ” exclaimed Fleur and engulfed her in a hug.

Hermione embraced her, too. “It’s good to see you, too, _ma Cherie! Ça va?_ ”

“ _Tres, tres bien. Et tu?_ ” The French woman released her and looked at her up and down as though assessing her wellbeing.

“ _Oui, bien aussi_.”

Fleur seemed to believe her and stepped aside for Ginny, who embraced Hermione, too, like they had not seen each other in a while. Then she was ushered to the living room where she saw Andromeda Tonks. Hermione went and hugged the older witch.

Andromeda was the younger sister of Bellatrix Lestrange, the older sister of Narcissa Malfoy, and the only normal one of the three. She had light brown hair and the same strong jaw as her oldest sister. Her light brown eyes were kind and the few times Hermione had met her, she had always oozed grace and decorum that it made the younger witch question whether or not she was adopted.

Hermione asked how she was doing, wanting to assure that the older witch was coping well.

“Oh, it is still difficult,” said Andromeda, “but I still have little Teddy with me. That makes it somewhat easier.”

Hermione smiled at her. “Speaking of… I’ve heard so many things about him from Harry, but I’ve still not met the little one.”

“He’s not your dragons, Hermione,” said Ginny with amusement.

“What am I supposed to call him then?” asked Hermione.

“Toddler. Child. Kid. Boy,” said the redhead and looked at Andromeda. “Sorry, she’s surrounded by baby dragons.”

“Newborns and whelp,” corrected Hermione when Molly came down the stairs with Teddy in her arms.

Ginny pointed at Teddy. “Human. Boy.”

Hermione did not mind her, though Andromeda and Fleur seemed amused. “Mum…” said Hermione, almost running to hug the woman. Molly squeezed her right back. Hermione did not expect to be emotional in seeing Molly again. She had missed her so much.

“Oh, dear, have you been eating well? Looking after yourself? Are you getting enough sleep? The dragons aren’t too much trouble, are they?” Molly rapid fired.

Hermione chuckled and let go. “I’m fine, mum. I’m well; don’t worry. And my dragons are doing well, too. Clingy and needy as anything, but they’re well, too.”

Molly stroked her hair a few times and looked at her like she was the prodigal daughter who now returned home. “We’ve missed you, dear.”

“I know, mum. I’ve missed you, too.”

“I hope with all this business with Ron, you won’t stop thinking of us like family –”

Hermione shook her head. “No, mum, you’d always be family. Ron and I just need time to heal from each other, but I am and always will be a part of this family for as long as you’ll have me.”

Molly pulled her back in a hug and in her arms Teddy began to protest. “Oh, sorry, dear. Hermione, meet Edward Remus Lupin. Teddy, this is your aunt Hermione.”

Little Teddy Lupin had chubby cheeks and currently sported green eyes and bright turquois hair. Hermione immediately melted at the sight of him.

“Hi little one,” she cooed in the same voice she used for Lumi and Nazuri. “How are you? You’re so adorable, yes, you are!”

Teddy babbled and excitedly wiggled his arms at Hermione.

“He likes you!” said Molly. “See if he’ll come to you.”

Hermione wiggled her fingers at him and he reached for her. Triumphant, she took him and began a tirade of baby-talk. Meanwhile, Molly had levitated tea and lemon cakes for them to enjoy.

“So, tell me,” she said, once everyone had settled. “How is that tattoo, Hermione?”

Hermione froze with her mouth open, looking at Teddy with wide eyes that the child found amusing.

“Don’t try to deny it,” said Molly. “It’s all over the papers.” She lifted both the _Prophet_ and the _Herald_ and true enough, Hermione featured in both of them and so did her tattoo.

“Well…” Hermione hesitated, trying to feel if Molly was going to scold her like she did with Charlie all those years ago. “Here’s the thing… I was working on loving myself and my body and my scars for a while now, but I always felt held back because there was still this small voice in my head that sounded suspiciously like Ron that had a problem with it. But the more I normalized my scars, the more I got used to them and learnt to accept them. But I wanted something else… I wanted to be free of that self-judgment and gain confidence in myself instead. So I got this tattoo. For me it represents that freedom. This is something that _I_ want on _my_ body. This is _my_ choice. For me, it’s a new start and this is my willingness to embrace that.” She smiled at Molly. “So please don’t be mad. _I’m_ happy with it.”

The matriarch smiled at her, too. “Well, I am glad that you’re happy. It’s just… it’s quite big, isn’t it?”

Hermione and the women laughed. “Quite. But it’s much more beautiful in person.”

“Let’s see it,” said Andromeda excitedly and, when the woman looked at her, she added, “What? Come on, let me live vicariously through her! My mother would have had a fit and my father would have banished me from the house. Come to think of it, maybe that’s what I should have done.”

Laughing once more, Hermione set Teddy down on the floor where his toys were before removing the beautiful dark green frock coat embroidered with different kinds of dragons that Blaise got her for Christmas. Underneath, she wore a simple white button-down sheath dress that showed half of her back. It was also sleeveless which beautifully showed Lumi’s wings unfurling over her arms as she stretched. Hermione turned around, thankful that she put up her hair in a French braided bun so it was out of the way.

“Oh, marvellous!” said Andromeda, softly clapping her hands.

“ _C’est genial!_ ” said Fleur. “‘Ermione, eet is beautiful!”

“See, I told you,” said Ginny. “Hermione, show them how it glows!”

Hermione did as she asked and made Lumi’s fins and wing-edges glowed. The women gasped in wonder and clapped, but she turned to the only person who was speechless. “Mum, what do you think?”

Molly smiled at her. “You’re spending too much time with Charlie,” she said and everyone laughed again.

Teddy was clapping, too. He crawled to Hermione and wanted her to pick him up so he could be near her tattoo. Hermione placed his little hands on Lumi’s head by her collarbone and the tattooed dragon poked her tongue as though trying to lick it. Teddy giggled and Hermione melted at the sound.

From there, the conversation took many turns from work and dragons and Ginny’s remaining school days, to Bill and Fleur’s plans to have a baby soon and, of course, Ginny and Hermione’s love lives.

Andromeda seemed happier from the last time Hermione saw her. To be fair, that was after the war and during the funerals, but it was wonderful to see her healthily dealing with her losses. Fleur had mellowed out and had nurtured a more motherly side since Hermione had seen her last as well. She was attentive to Teddy, sensitive to his needs and protective over what he could pick up or where he would go. Ginny had always been confident, but Hermione thought she looked like she was glowing. Whether that was because she was happy to spend time with her family this merry season or from something her brother had done, she was unsure she wanted to find out. Molly had a few more grey hairs on her and her skin was a little blotchy. The woman was stressed, Hermione thought. However, before her thoughts could take her to the woman Ron had gotten pregnant and how Molly was dealing with her, something had caught Hermione’s eye. There was a tattoo on the inside of Molly’s arm that Hermione had never seen before.

“Mum,” she said, unable to take her eyes off it that she was not sure who she interrupted. “Is that a tattoo?”

Molly looked down where her sleeve had come up on her right arm. “Oh, yes, it is!” She showed it to Hermione. On her inner, upper arm was the name “Arthur” and behind it was an infinity symbol, glowing gold and made up of hundreds of thousands of sand that seemed to move and flow. “Arthur is my Fated.”

At the word, Hermione gasped. “You’re Fated?”

Molly beamed. “Yes, we are. I’ve always had his name since my birth and my name appeared on him when I was born.”

“So you’re one of the rare ones!” said Hermione. “That’s fascinating.”

“We’re not the only one in the family,” said Molly and nodded her head to Fleur. “But they didn’t tell us until after the wedding!”

The French woman lifted her dress a little to show her right thigh. There on her fair skin, Bill’s name stood out surrounded by vines blooming with flowers of all colours. “Zis showed up after Beel and I first met,” said Fleur. “At first, zer were no flowers, but after we’ve bonded zey began to appear and now zey bloom.”

“That is so beautiful,” said Hermione.

“This one was silver before Arthur and I bonded,” said Molly. “It turned gold afterwards and continued to burn bright since.”

“Urgh, I wish I had one,” said Ginny, hand on her cheek.

“It’s probably for the best that you didn’t,” said Hermione. “Do you know how paranoid Harry would have been if someone saw your name on his skin?”

“Fair enough,” said the younger redhead. “But I always wanted one. Mum told me stories when I was younger, and it just seemed so romantic to me back then.”

“It still is to me now,” said Hermione. “Why wasn’t this taught at Hogwarts?”

“Because children were taught it at home,” said Andromeda. “Pure-blooded children, anyway. It was a part of magic deeply ingrained in society that children knew from a young age to treat with respect. Of course, Purebloods learned it at home, so like most things, they assumed others did, too, not taking into consideration that some Half-Bloods grow up outside of wizarding communities and that Muggleborns would not know it at all.”

Hermione shook her head at the unfairness of it all and the prejudice that ran deep in their world. “I was told no higher bond existed in the magical world.”

The women nodded around her.

“We were taught from a young age to treat it as a sacred thing,” said Molly. “It’s a soul bond, you see.”

“You mean soul mate?” asked Hermione.

“No, dear, soul _bond_ ,” said Molly. “Arthur’s name appearing on my skin means not only are we compatible, but we are destined to be together. It’s not that he is the other piece to make me complete, but that he and I are the same piece. We are two sides of the same galleon; we may look different when you look at us, but we are one.”

Hermione was astonished. Never before had she heard of something like this.

“Zer is one more kind of Fated,” said Fleur.

“The one where people learn who they’ll be with upon taking a path magic has chosen for them,” said Hermione, reciting from memory what Blaise had told her. “What does that mean?”

Fleur had a twinkle in her eye. “Zem being togezer is the path magic has chosen,” she said.

“But doesn’t magic also choose the other two?” asked Hermione.

“Yeah, that used to confuse me, too,” said Ginny.

“Think about it like this,” said Andromeda. “The first is destiny. The moment one was born, they were destined to meet this person and share the rest of their life with that person.

“The second happens upon meeting, as though once the paths of two people have come together, they are since then destined to never part again. If they had never met, they can live the rest of their lives not knowing and it would not have mattered.

“The third happens when magic itself makes a way for them to meet, know each other and decide. Once they commit to the route that magic has chosen for them, then they become Fated. If they do not, however, they will live the rest of their lives knowing something went wrong.”

Hermione sat overwhelmed. “But… but that seems unfair.”

Andromeda nodded. “As many things in life tend to be.” She lifted the hem of her skirt and showed her left ankle where the name “Ted” was written. Behind the name were dried vines and wilted flowers.

***

The conversation they had still echoed in Hermione’s head as she walked the streets of Diagon Alley. She could not help but wonder how many of the ones that were here were Fated and if she were fortunate enough to have one she was Fated to, who would it be? A face appeared in her mind and Hermione smiled. Bottle green eyes sparkling, beautiful lips parting to reveal perfectly white teeth, a smile so devastatingly handsome, it could turn winter into summer.

 _Oh Merlin_. What was happening to her? Shaking her head, Hermione instead thought of going to _Muggle Magical_ afterwards and buying herself a present. A new record perhaps? Or one of those CD players?

A shop with bright orange painted windows and a wizard with a top hat magically moving distracted Hermione from her thoughts and she smiled, reaching her first destination. Entering the establishment, Hermione perused the aisles and looked at all the children excitedly filling their parents’ baskets with goodies from the shop. She smiled wondering if Neville would have to face a few of these goodies himself or if it would even work on him, seeing as he had used quite a few of it in his time. She continued to wander around until she saw the Fireworks aisle. It was almost completely empty. She guessed people were stocking up for the New Year when an idea came to her. Hermione looked at boxes: _Fred Weasley’s Basic Blaze Box,_ _Miraculous Mystic Mayhem Makers_ , _Feathery Flamingo Flame Fuzzer_ and _Bombtastic Bomb_. She was comparing them to see which one was better when two other boxes appeared in front of her: _Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-bangs_ and _Thor’s Thunder Cracker_.

“If you’re looking for fireworks, these are the better choices,” George said beside her.

Hermione smiled at him and gave the twin a very tight hug.

“Ooh! Someone missed me!”

When they released, Hermione hit the back of his head. “Why were you fighting with your brother the day after Christmas?”

George frowned as he tried to sooth his head. “Because he’s a prick and he deserves it?”

Hermione crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow with a look that would make Harry and Ron behave when they were at school. George, however, simply chuckled at her.

“That’s cute, Hermione, but you’re at a dropout’s lair, remember? Your prefect ways have no power here.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fine. But come on, Georgie, is this really worth it?”

“What is or isn’t worth it?” asked a familiar voice and Hermione turned to see Fred, smiling at her.

“Us pounding Ickle Ronnikins,” said George.

“Ah,” said Fred. “That was _very much_ worth it. Very satisfying. Ten out of ten would do it again.”

Hermione hit his arm, but Fred caught her and pulled her into a bear hug instead.

“What’s done is done, Hermione,” he said cheerfully, as though they were talking about buying more chocolates. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it anymore.”

“But you’re still family,” she said. “Family shouldn’t fight.”

“I disagree,” said Fred, letting her go. He bopped her nose. “Family is family and no matter how many times we fight, that won’t change.”

“That’s true,” said George. “We’ve tried having him adopted.”

“And we’ve tried having mum and dad sign the papers to have him legally put in an orphanage.”

“Still no-go.”

Hermione chuckled and the twins each wrapped an arm around her.

“So if you came here to try to make decent human beings out of us,” said George.

“Very sorry to disappoint you, but it is not going to happen,” said Fred.

“However, for an amazing fireworks display that will leave you wanting more, I will recommend these two.”

“And _George’s Compendium Box of Pyrotechtrix_!”

“On the house, of course.”

Fred handed George the boxes to ring up, while he ushered Hermione for a walk around the busy, noisy and colourful store. “Any more concerns?”

“I just don’t want for there to be a rift in your family because of me and him, that’s all.”

Fred smiled fondly at her. “First of all, _our_ family. Second of all, this is not because of ‘you’ or ‘you and him’. This is because stupid decisions should have painful consequences that make a mark to remind stupid people that stupid decisions are no good.”

“That’s a whole lot of stupid.”

“So is Ron. Point is: we did what we did because we thought it was right and fairly deserved. Let the bastard learn.”

Hermione chuckled, knowing letting the twins to their own devices would be better than nagging them. She would only get tired and they still would not listen.

“Hey, you didn’t say ‘language’.” Fred smiled.

“I can let those pass. You did defend my honour.”

“That I did.”

Hermione turned to him, remembering something. “Ooh! By the way, I had this idea the other day. I call it ‘InstaChat’, like instant chat. It’s like the galleons we have at the D.A. but much more marketable. It’s where we have twin pieces of parchment or even notebooks that we could write in and it will instantly appear on the other. That way, we can have instant communication without having to owl.”

Fred’s eyes brightened up. “That’s genius!”

“Hermione generally is,” said George, returning to them with a shrunken bag that Hermione put in her pocket with a kiss on his cheek as thanks. “But what’s this?”

Hermione repeated her idea to him.

“That _is_ genius!” said George and looked at Fred. “We should start working on that. Maybe we can get it in time for Valentine’s Day or something.”

“And it can have privacy charms like the map did,” said Fred. “Whisper a set of words and the messages appear and clear up again.”

“Or it can electrocute anyone who tries to read it that isn’t the owner,” said Hermione.

The twins looked at her then each other and back again.

“Did you just actually suggest we electrocute someone, Miss Granger?” teased Fred.

“Just a little shock,” said Hermione. “If they’re nosey, they might… deserve it? A dinnae ken.”

George looked at his twin with a wicked grin. “We’re growing on her.”

“Also,” said Hermione, her mind still whirring with ideas, “if you put that shock thing on a diary, you’ll earn a lot of galleons from teenage girls. Just saying.”

“I like it!” said Fred. “What say you, Forge?”

“I say we do it, Gred.”

The two of them kissed Hermione’s cheeks soundly.

“Thank you for the ideas!” they chorused and wrapped her in a tight hug.


	26. The New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> The song I used in this fic is not my own. They belong to their own singer and writers.
> 
> Also, some Muggle views held here are not very open and unaccepting. Reason being: It was 1999.
> 
> To Divrs - you're lucky I appreciate you ;)

Hermione decided to take advantage of the oven in the Crèche. She brought with her a ready-to-bake recipe for brownies and currently the wonderful smell was wafting through the place. She was sitting in the office with Charlie and their dragons, trying to make a list for Avienne, so come Monday, they would have a topic guideline for the books they could take from the Wood Library and Archives. She reviewed them for the third time to make sure she was not forgetting anything, scratching her shoulder as she did. She was wearing a dark blue off-shoulder knitted sweater at the moment paired with a pair of beautiful bellbottom jeans Ginny got her for Christmas and her Chucks. She put her hair up in a messy bun and ensured all her clothes were heat-proofed and fireproofed. This outfit was too gorgeous to have holes in them.

At the end of the table to her right, Charlie, who was forever in flannel and jeans, and Nazuri were playing with a rope, using it for a tug-of-war. Nazuri was getting annoyed that Charlie kept winning and Hermione was counting down the minutes before he “accidentally” set Charlie on fire. She watched them play and tease. Charlie’s hair was getting longer now and his bun could rival hers any day. But what Hermione liked most was his beard. He looked amazing with it. He looked even manlier, if that was a thing, his face seemed more chiselled and his eyes bluer.

Meanwhile, Lumi was amusing herself with the canaries Hermione had conjured. She was on her back with her arms and legs up in the air while the canaries circled overhead like a baby mobile. Every now and again her tail would flip and swish back and forth in her amusement and excitement.

“Hey, do you think Vivi and Thell are getting together tonight?” Hermione asked Charlie.

The redhead shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”

“No reason.”

He squinted at her. “You have a bet going on with Raphael again?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Hermione…”

“Double or nothing. I could lose twenty galleons.”

Charlie laughed out loud. “I knew it! Fred and George really aren’t a good influence on you!”

“Hey! Don’t blame them. And it’s not as if it’s bad. I mean those two would get together anyway.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They’re perfect for each other. And I see the way Thell looks at her. The toughness in him just melts away and what’s left is this adorable gigantic puppy.”

Charlie laughed again. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

Hermione merely shrugged. “Dinnae care.”

The entrance to the Crèche rumbled and in came Avienne and Thell.

“Speak of the devil,” said Hermione, putting her things aside. “What are you two doing here?”

“We’ve got a surprise for you,” said Avienne and gestured to the third person coming in behind her.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oliver!” She ran and wrapped her arms around him and he readily caught her, picking her up as he did. “Merlin, what are you doing here?”

“Dinnae ken ye missed me tha’ much,” he said and gently put her down. He was wearing a navy blue jumper and black jeans and that gorgeous smile she liked.

“I was just surprised, that’s all,” said Hermione. Even she knew that was a lie. “I thought you were in Wales.”

“Naw, we’re back on break and a talked tae Caine, asked if a could stay with ye fer the New Year. If tha’s a’right with ye lot.” He looked at the other dragon keepers as well.

“Oh, no problem. None at all,” answered Avienne rather quickly. “Right, Charlie?”

The redhead nodded. “Of course, mate. You’re more than welcome.”

“Caine’s all right with you being here?” asked Hermione. “At the Crèche?”

Oliver nodded. “A may have bribed him a bit with season tickets fer his kids, but Avienne vouched fer mae and he agreed.”

“Well, then, great!” Hermione looked at Avienne, wondering what the silver-haired woman was planning. “Vivi, can I talk to you?” Without waiting for her to answer, Hermione grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the office and into the kitchen.

“Damn, girl, slow down,” said the older witch.

Hermione threw up a silencing charm.

Avienne raised an eyebrow. “Is that really necessary?”

“Yes. Now, what are you up to?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, Arkady. What’s going on?”

Avienne rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m running an experiment.”

“On a civilian that has no training with dragons?! What are you thinking, Vi?”

“Honey, take it down twenty notches, okay?” She sighed. “Haven’t you noticed? The dragons respond to Oliver the same way they respond to you and Charlie.”

Hermione bit her tongue.

“You know, don’t you?” Purple eyes pierced her with a reading gaze.

Hermione swallowed. It was true; she had proven that.

“Hermione, you knew?”

The brunette told the silver-haired witch about the day Oliver first met Adherion and the day Luminaria hatched, when Nazuri showed his approval of Oliver as well.

“I knew it!” said Avienne. “I knew something was going on. But, wait, it doesn’t matter.”

“What? Of course, it does!”

“Not right now, it doesn’t!” Avienne pointed outside. “There is a man out there who likes you and _bribed our boss_ just so he can spend the New Year with you. Don’t be an idiot. Go out there and have fun!”

“You sound like Pansy.”

“I’m guessing she’s a genius.” Avienne held her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes with seriousness. “Honey, we do not have to sit around waiting. We are capable of getting what we want if we have the guts to take it.”

Hermione smirked. “Does that mean you’re going after Thell, then?”

Avienne smirked, too. “If he doesn’t kiss me by midnight, I’m going to make the move. What are _you_ going to do, Granger?” With that, she flicked her silver hair and walked out of the kitchen.

Hermione sighed. What _was_ she going to do? Just then, the oven’s timer rang. _Perfect_.

When Hermione returned to the office, Charlie and Oliver were talking about Puddlemere’s future matches and Charlie’s opinion on which teams they should watch out for. Oliver had his concentrating brooding face again so it must be important. Meanwhile, Luminaria and Nazuri were tumbling around the table.

Not wishing to interrupt the conversation, Hermione set the brownies down in the middle and picked up the two little dragons before they could storm the treat.

All talk of Quidditch immediately halted.

“Merlin and Morgana, tha’ smells so good,” moaned Oliver.

“It is such a terrible idea to start a diet around you,” teased Charlie.

Hermione sniggered at him. “You’ve never thought of a diet once in your life, Charles Weasley.”

“You’re right. You know me so well.” With that, the redhead summoned the plates and utensils.

Nazuri was clambering to get back to the table.

“Baby, stop that!” chastised Hermione. “Behave yourself. You’re not allowed that, anyway, so don’t even think about it.”

Nazuri cried. He leaned his golden-spiked head on her shoulder and wailed like the theatrical little tyke he was.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You are so dramatic, I swear. Charlie, get your son!”

The redhead made a face but got up anyway and picked up the little tyke. “You sure know how to pick your timing, Naz.”

Hermione focused on Luminaria. “At least you’re not making a fuss for mummy tonight. Your brother’s being moody again.”

Lumi contentedly purred on her shoulder.

“She’s behaved,” said Oliver, sliding a slice of brownie towards her, which Hermione happily took.

“She usually is, though she does have her moments.”

“Um-hmm,” Charlie agreed. “And the trouble she causes are much worse than Nazuri.”

Luminaria growled at Charlie.

“Excuse you, miss,” said the redhead. “We both know what you’re capable of. Just like your mummy, you are!”

“Why? What’s she done?” asked Oliver and Charlie happily told him of Luminaria’s escape from the Crèche only to jump off at Hermione’s terrace and how Hermione had done something similar jumping off an Ironbelly after escaping from Gringott’s. Though, of course, that opened up the topic of how she got in that situation in the first place.

And so, Hermione told them – from _how_ they broke in, all the way to the _why_ and _what_ they stole. By the end of the story, both wizards were staring at her flabbergasted with mouths wide open. Meanwhile, Luminaria looked proud.

Hermione silently cut off a piece of her brownie and ate it before the two men both started shouting.

“YOU WENT AS FREAKING BELLATRIX LESTRANGE?!”

“HAVE YE THREE GONE _ABSOLUTELY_ MENTAL?”

“When you three were planning this, did it ever occur to you just how badly this could have gone?!”

“Trusted a greasy bleedin’ goblin! Havnae ye three paid any attention in History af Magic _at all_?!”

“And the use of an Unforgivable! And with Trevers right there, too! He could have spotted you and you three would have been right where you started!”

“And why didnae Harry just flew up to get the bloody horcrux? Why didnae ye three asked Bill fer the spells and charms in place in the bloody vaults?”

“Oh, my bloody nerves! My bloody fucking nerves!”

“Merlin’s bowfing pants and Morgana’s bloody bahooky!”

Hermione looked at the two of them and then burst into laughter. It was not poised. It was not a charming little giggle. It was a head-tilted-back, mouth-wide-open, snort-central, laugh-out-loud-and-don’t-care kind of laughter. Soon, the boys were joining her, too. And for a while, Hermione felt perfectly peaceful. There was no family problems caused by her break-up, no stress of what they did not know about their dragons, no uncertainty of what the future held. There was only happiness and peace, and Hermione could live here in this moment forever.

But Luminaria had other plans.

A crash behind her alerted Hermione of where the little black dragon had gotten to without her noticing. When she turned around, Luminaria had upended a box from one of the shelves and was currently digging through it.

“Lumi, what have you found now?” asked Hermione. She went to pick up the box and realized it was the one with Luminaria’s eggshell inside it. They were preserving the egg with a stasis charm in place for future references and records.

“What’s she doing?” asked Charlie even as he lifted up Nazuri by his tail as the little one tried to dive into his brownie. Flipping the little red dragon the right way up, Charlie placed him securely on his lap and away from his plate.

“Dinnae ken,” said Hermione, wondering why the little one was digging through her eggshells. “Lumi?”

A black-scaled head with glowing green eyes popped at the top of the box and Luminaria screeched excitedly. Hermione helped her out only to find she had clutched a small piece of her shell in her claw.

“What is that?” asked Hermione, setting the dragon on the table, when Luminaria handed her the egg. “Thanks.” She put it back in the box.

This time, Luminaria’s screech was not very friendly and again, she dove into the box and retrieved the eggshell. She climbed out herself and set the shell in front of Hermione.

The witch glanced at Charlie.

Luminaria nudged her snout at the shell and looked at Hermione expectantly.

“Do you want me to have it?” asked Hermione.

Luminaria nudged the shell again.

Hermione took it and Luminaria looked quite pleased. She dove back into the box and when she came back out, she had two more small pieces. Hobbling over to Oliver, the little black dragon placed the shell in front of him before looking at the Scot expectantly.

Oliver glanced at Hermione before taking the shell. “Er, thanks, Lumi.”

Again, Luminaria hobbled over until she was in front of Charlie and did the same thing.

Charlie leaned forward. “Sweetie, you can’t give your eggshells away. We need it preserved. You’re quite a rare dragon, you know?”

“A dinnae think she understands – oops.” Oliver covered his mouth, trying to stop himself from laughing, because Luminaria had just slapped Charlie’s nose.

“Excuse you, miss,” said Charlie, when Luminaria pounced on him.

“Lumi!” Hermione exclaimed, immediately getting up from her chair and going to the two.

The small dragon eyed Charlie before deliberately pressing his nose slowly.

Hermione lifted her up and placed her down on the table. Luminaria proceeded to insistently nudge her eggshell at Charlie.

“All right, all right.” Charlie took the shell and held it up for her to see. “There, are you happy now?”

Luminaria eyed him still before turning her back on the redhead, flicking her tail as she went. Hermione and Charlie looked at each other.

“Your dragon,” muttered Charlie.

“And your dragon,” said Hermione, pointing at Nazuri, who was trying to climb the table and get to Charlie’s fork.

“Merlin’s sake, Nazuri!” exclaimed Charlie.

Meanwhile, Luminaria decided to go to Oliver. She sat in front of him and the two of them watched each other as Oliver ate. Every now and again, Luminaria would tilt her head this way and that at the Scot and he would copy her. Hermione went back to her seat and watched them.

When Oliver finished, he summoned a glass and conjured a jet of water into it. Luminaria leaned forward in awe of it. Oliver drank and conjured another jet of water. Excitedly, Luminaria jumped and tried to catch the water in her mouth, but she tripped on her own tail and rolled around.

The three humans laughed at the adorable little dragon and Oliver set her to rights before handing her some water from his glass.

“I don’t think she likes it from the glass,” said Hermione just as Luminaria pushed it aside like it was offensive. “Told you.”

“Fine, then,” said Oliver and muttered, “ _Aguamenti._ ”

The little dragon animatedly lapped it up and bounced around happily after she drank, making Hermione, Charlie and Oliver clap for her.

Near midnight, Charlie brought the dozing Nazuri up to the Incubation Ward while Hermione and Oliver went to the playing pit with Luminaria, whose energy never seemed to diminish. At the moment, she was jumping from one boulder to the next, flapping her two sets of wings about as if they could carry her across.

Hermione felt Oliver’s body come close behind her before she felt his hands on her waist and his kiss on her shoulder. It never failed to make her melt.

The first time Oliver kissed her shoulder, Hermione became so overwhelmed, she cried. Ever since Ron’s rejection of her, Hermione had been conscious, but since the break-up she had tried her best to rid herself of that insecurity. When Oliver kissed her shoulder, it was as if everything – every self-doubt and hurt and ridicule she faced because of that scar had crumbled down to dust. In such a simple gesture, Oliver had eradicated it all and made her feel appreciated and wanted and beautiful. And Hermione cherished it so much because it was not magic that made her feel that way. It was something as simple and as basic as acceptance, genuine acceptance from another human being.

As the Scot kissed her shoulder again now, Hermione allowed herself to lean onto him as he wound his arms around her stomach, his fingers caressing the bump of the scar on her hip. She placed her hands on top of his, a smile of contentment on her face.

“Any goals fer the New Year?” Oliver asked in a low voice.

“Hmm…” Hermione thought about it. “Research Lumi’s heritage… Keep in touch with family and friends more often… Learn to fly a broom…” She looked at him. “Get to know you better…”

Oliver smiled. “Those are good goals.”

“And you?”

“Mae? Win the British and Irish Quidditch League Cup.”

“Of course.”

“Win the Micos Fenwick Award fer Keeper Excellence.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Win the heart af wan Hermione Jean Granger.”

Hermione’s surprise made her breath catch, but she smiled at the green-eyed Scot nonetheless. “Is that so?”

“Um-hmm. Lofty tha’ one. A dae hope am gaining headway.”

“You are…”

The Scot kissed the tip of her nose. “Good.” Slowly, he began to sway the two of them and Hermione giggled. “What?”

“There’s no music. Why are we dancing?”

“We’re not dancing. We’re swaying.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, ye can sing fer us, then.”

Hermione shook her head. “You sing.”

Oliver made a face that made her chuckle. “A dinnae ken any nice, romantic songs.”

“Sing old war songs for all I care.”

“Nah… It’ll ruin the mood.”

Hermione giggled again. “Oh, I know…” She held her beaded bag out to him like a game show showgirl.

“Oh, yes, please. Amaze mae with yer marvellous bag o’ tricks.”

Hermione pulled out her newly acquired portable CD player. It was a small black thing with speakers intact. Levitating it safely away from Luminaria, Hermione let the soundtrack play.

“Wonderful,” said Oliver and spun her around.

They danced and swayed around the compacted earth while Luminaria and the music played.

_The world was on fire and no one could save me but you_

_It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do_

_I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you_

_And I never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you_

***

_No, I don’t wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)_

_No, I don’t wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)_

_With you_

_With you_

Charlie watched with heart slowly being crushed as Hermione danced with Oliver. He watched as she spun around and came back into the arms of a man he respected, a man he led and mentored a long time ago, a man he saw mature and grow into someone respectable and became one of the youngest captains in the league. He watched her laugh and smile, her eyes only for this man. And he watched her stand to the tips of her toes and kissed him.

_What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way_

_What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you_

_What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way_

_What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you_

Nazuri let out a pain-filled wail that Charlie imprisoned in this silenced Ward as he blinked out the tears that welled in his eyes. He hugged the newborn to his chest and comforted him, ran his fingers up and down his spine though he knew Nazuri would not stop anytime soon.

Charlie swallowed the pain. He could not begrudge Hermione this happiness. He could not allow himself that selfishness because somewhere between showing her this world of dragons and caring for their newborns and each other, Charlie Weasley had fallen in love with Hermione Granger.

The sound of fireworks erupted from outside and Charlie knew the New Year had come. With a twirl of Hermione’s wand, the Bay doors opened and the firework-filled skies came into view. Its beauty was lost on Charlie who only had eyes for Hermione.

As though called by his thoughts, the brunette witch turned around to him and waved as she happily shouted, “Happy New Year!”

Charlie smiled despite the tears pooling in his eyes and waved at her. He bent down to kiss Nazuri, even as Oliver bent down to kiss Hermione, and went inside the Ward.

“Shh, shh, don’t cry, baby,” Charlie soothed the little dragon even as his tears finally fell. “It’s okay. Mummy’s happy. She is. And we haven’t seen her this happy in a while. Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay. Dada’s here. We’re okay, baby. We’re okay. We're gonna be okay.”

***

Hermione was on cloud nine. There was no other way of putting it. She was floating and she was smiling like an idiot and she was happy! Really, truly happy.

Come morning, Oliver flew Hermione to her cottage before he left for home. As they stood on her porch, he promised to write to her. He said he would try his best to not include very long paragraphs of Quidditch as well, which made her laugh. Best of all, though, he promised that the next time he was back, he would take her out to dinner. To which Hermione agreed. She also made him promise not to get badly injured. To which Oliver said he would do his best. With one last hug and one last kiss on her shoulder, Oliver turned to leave. Hermione held his hand to stop him before kissing the back of it and bidding him goodbye.

As of the moment, Hermione was looking at Ginny through Harry’s mirror and laughing as the redhead screamed for joy and elation at her story.

“Damn it, Hermione, you should have kissed him goodbye!” said Ginny.

“No, she didn’t!” said Harry somewhere in the background.

Ginny grabbed a pillow and threw it at her boyfriend. “Yes, she did! Oh, Merlin! I’m so excited for you! And I’m so happy!”

Hermione tried to contain her giggles to no avail. “I’m so happy for me, too!”

Harry’s face appeared in the mirror. “And I’m so happy for you, too!”

“Shut up, Harry. Eat your food,” said Ginny, pushing him away. “So what? Are you guys together yet?”

Hermione shook her head. “We’re not quite there yet, but I am excited by the things I’m getting to know about him. We just talked for hours and it was amazing! He is so smart, Gin. And I don’t just mean Quidditch-smart.”

Percy’s face appeared beside Ginny. “Would you care for my opinion?” he asked.

“Percy! Happy New Year! Of course, you know I value what you think.”

“Thank you and happy New Year to you, too.” Percy cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Wood is one of the smartest students in our year. He had top marks in Defence, Astronomy, History of Magic, and Transfiguration, and came in second in Charms, Potions, Arithmancy, Herbology and Ancient Runes.”

“Second to whom?”

Percy looked smug. “To me, of course.”

Hermione applauded him and he bowed his head graciously.

“Thank you, thank you. But for my personal opinion, I think he could go toe-to-toe with you on any subject you choose. He is very quick to learn and like you, he values information and education.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” Hermione was certain she would never again go out with anyone who would make fun of her for buying a book. “Just curiously, what was Oliver’s favourite subject?”

“Easy. Transfiguration. Though he was also fond of Ancient Runes and History of Magic.”

“Hmm, that figures. Thanks, Perce!”

“My pleasure.”

The moment he left, Ginny’s face occupied the mirror and she looked absolutely bored that Hermione had to laugh.

The two of them talked until Hermione could no longer stop her excessive yawning. After they said goodbye, Hermione immediately fell asleep.

The good thing about having friends who owned a muggle appliance store was that they were able to share muggle technology with their Pureblood friends. However, the unexpected side of it was that Blaise Zabini had become utterly fascinated by films. For that reason, Hermione found herself in Diagon Alley very early on a Saturday morning.

“Dress Robes, if you do now slow down right now,” said Hermione, “I will bribe Dropout One and Two to put Dungbombs in your closet for a month!”

The dark-skinned Slytherin came to an immediate stop in front of her. “Do not even joke about that.”

Earlier that morning, Hermione was awoken by the sound of her kettle whistling. Picking up her wand, she silently crept downstairs, entire body on high alert, only to see Blaise making a cup of tea on her breakfast bar. Upon being asked what he was doing in her kitchen, his response was, “You told us to come through to your floo in case of an emergency. There is one. I need your help and expertise in purchasing a ‘telly’.” Apparently, Blaize bloody Zabini had given a very generous donation to the Reserve and all he asked for in return was an access to Hermione’s floo. And, of course, Caine had given it to him. It was a _very_ generous donation.

Hermione wanted to set him on fire. The Slytherin then demanded she showered and dressed while he sat around like he owned the place, drinking tea. As soon as Hermione was presentable, he had whisked them off to the Leaky Cauldron and now here they were.

“I want a coffee!” whined Hermione. “And a muffin. And a decent breakfast!”

Blaise heaved a heavy sigh. “I suppose it is rather a good thing that your appetite is back,” he said. “There’s a café at Pentagon Alley that I highly recommend.” He walked back to where she was, extended his arm and walked with her.

Meanwhile, in the few moments that they were there, a few people had turned to notice. Hermione could feel eyes following them and hear people muttering. Most women they passed by, whether they were young or old, looked at Blaise and she could not fault them. Blaise was handsome and his shaved head only brought out his aristocratic features all the more – high and sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline and striking symmetrical facial construction. He had piercing dark eyes beneath long, curving lashes, a high and sharp nose, and full lips that were perfect whether he smiled or not. Additionally, Blaise dressed well. At the moment, he was wearing a white turtleneck with grey chequered pants, white shoes and a black coat. So simple, yet women’s heads turned when he passed them by.

Meanwhile, Hermione managed to throw on a beautiful caramel coloured jumpsuit with a high-waisted sash belt, the long sleeves of which she bunched up by her elbows. She paired it with open-toed high heels and a painted clutch she got from Luna. Her hair was out in all its curling glory and now reached the small of her back. She would need a trim soon.

Before Blaise and Hermione reached their destination, three reporters and two photographers came and blocked in their way. From her periphery, Hermione saw Blaise clench his jaw, but his Slytherin-trained expression remained blank. She copied his composure and assessed their path. They were cornered with a closed clothing shop on their left, the photographers and reporters on their front and right, and the gossiping women behind them. Even if they ran, the Alley provided no escape.

“Miss Granger, are you and Mister Zabini an item now that Mister Weasley has shown his true colours? Is the makeover your revenge on Mister Weasley? Or is it a strategy to attract a new partner?”

“Do you have anything to say about the infidelity of Mister Weasley? How do you feel about Skeeter exposing the affair at the wake of your engagement?”

“Who had carved that derogatory word into your arm and how many other scars have you gotten in the war? Why are you uncovering it now?”

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Talk about a variety of topics. Instead, she smiled and decided to take control of the situation. “First of all, nothing I do is motivated by spite, revenge or anger,” she said coolly. “My parents may just be muggles to your readers, but they raised me better than that.

“Second of all, I am a huge advocate of self-love and self-care. Having gone through the war and being at the forefront of it all with my brother and my friends, I know its traumatizing effect better than most. However, I also know that these scars, no matter how ugly or how detestable for others, are badges of honour. We survived and we lived through such horrible ordeals, and still, here we are, pushing on with our lives. It is a huge accomplishment that we have eradicated the forces of evil in our world and we are rebuilding. So I don’t see the point of hiding my scars and being ashamed of them. I know my worth. I paid dearly for every ounce of it. I won’t hide myself, and my journey to loving my body and loving myself is far too damn steep for you to cheaply accuse me of doing it for the sake of someone else. I did this for me and because I am damn well worth it.

“Thirdly, whatever happened between myself and Mister Weasley is no one’s business but ours, so I suggest you keep your nose out of it.

“Fourth, I’m friends with the Editor in Chief of the _Wizarding Herald_. If I were to be engaged, _she_ would be the one I would trust to publish it. Since there had been no announcement, it’s safe to say there has been no engagement, let alone a wedding and whatever comes after.

“Fifth, everybody knows Mister Zabini and I are good friends. If you strive to be a good journalist, please have better questions and try not to do a Skeeter for a few galleons. You’re better than that. Achieve to be better than that.

“Lastly, Rita Skeeter has the integrity of a nargle. I wouldn’t trust her to report the truth since all she’s done is expose my brother and I to public scrutiny and lies since Harry was _fourteen_ , a _minor_. What kind of self-respecting adult does that to a _child_?”

“So, what inspired your fashion change?”

“What kind of dragon is your tattoo? Is it a Muggle dragon?”

“Mister Zabini, is there already a future Missis Zabini or are you still hoping to meet her this year?”

Hermione flicked her hair and this time rolled her eyes, seeming bored. “That’s all for today. And if you expect me to answer any more questions in the future, leave us be today. Goodbye.”

Blaise smirked and they both walked through without being followed anymore.

 _The Moonlit Café_ was the same café that Hermione once had hot chocolate with Harry in Pentagon Alley. The owners were Sophie Roper, a Ravenclaw, and Sally-Anne Perks, a Hufflepuff from the same year as Hermione and Blaise. Their logo was the silhouettes of two girls holding hands, sitting on a crescent moon and drinking hot chocolates and they both had scarves with the colours of their Houses. They offered outdoor seating with mosaic tile table designs and eccentric steel chairs, but the inside was warm and comfortable. They had bookshelves filled with books by both muggle and wizarding authors, canvases with modern and still arts, fairy lights that zigzagged on the ceiling, and tables and couches that lined one side of the café while the rest had a mix of benches and chairs.

As Hermione sat beside the window on the upper floor, comfortable in the armchair she was perched on, she could not help but turn to Blaise. “How did you think that went?”

The Slytherin had a smile on his face but ignored her and continued to peruse the magazines that were left for them.

“Dress Robes!” Hermione hissed.

“Did you know,” he said languidly, “that you made the cover of _It! Magazine_ and _WitchWeekly_?” He turned the magazines to her and true enough, Hermione stared at photographs of herself.

The cover of _It! Magazine_ was obviously taken during the Quidditch match on Christmas. On it was a close up of Hermione looking over her shoulder before facing front, the tattoo of Luminaria in full view. She looked rather stunning, she must admit. Must be the red lips. There was a bonus picture at the bottom of her and Harry laughing with Harry’s arm around her shoulder. On the side, it read: **_Your Best Year Starts Here! The Hermione Granger-inspired ways to jump-start your best life this 1999!_**

Meanwhile, the cover of _WitchWeekly_ featured another close up of Hermione from the previous game. She was smiling and tilting her head back in laughter. The imposing title read: **_New Year, New You: Find out five ways you can dress like Hermione Granger!_**

“Oh. Dear. Morgana.” Hermione looked up at Blaise, eyes wide.

“Welcome to the celebrity life,” said Blaise with a smirk. “Sorry, I couldn’t join you in these. My face only graces Vogue and _L’Officiel Hommes_.”

“Show off,” Hermione muttered and Blaise chuckled. She turned the magazines over and left them on the table.

A waitress, a teenage girl with braces and pigtails, arrived with their orders and placed it in front of them with a smile. The moment she looked up, however, the smile disappeared and her eyes widened. “You’re Hermione Granger! And your Blaise Zabini!” she said, her voice rising in pitch with every word.

“That we are,” said Blaise with a charming smile and took one of the magazines Hermione had put down. “Would you like Hermione’s autograph?”

“Shut it, Zabini,” said Hermione and turned to the teenager. “Sorry about him.”

“Oh, it’s – wow – hi. It’s really good to see you.”

Hermione blushed. “Thanks.”

“Okay.” The waitress slowly walked backwards, waving at them awkwardly as if unable to believe they were really there. When she hit her back on the railing of the stairs, she awkwardly laughed and ran downstairs.

Hermione refused to laugh at the poor girl. “Let’s get back to the point here,” she said instead, stirring her double espresso. “Why do you suddenly want a television?”

“I celebrated New Year’s with the lads,” said Blaise, stirring his mocha. “We went to Dean’s flat. He had an amazing set-up there. Surround sound and what he called a ‘flat-screen tv’, which is apparently the new rage among muggles. I thought it was fine. We ate, we drank, we talked, but then he took this circular shiny thing, a dee-vee-dee?”

“DVD – digital video disc.”

“Oh. Right. Well, this _DVD_ turned out to have a film in it. It was very entertaining.”

“What did you watch?”

“Die Hard.”

Hermione laughed. “No. You didn’t.”

Blaise looked at her passively. “Welcome to the party, pal!”

“Oh, Merlin!” Hermione had to cover her mouth otherwise she would be making a lot of noise, she was laughing so hard. “Best start of the year, _ever_!”

Merry greetings were exchanged the moment Blaise and Hermione entered _Muggle Magical_. The store was slowly filling up with witches and wizards and Hermione noticed three new faces wearing the store’s maroon uniform. Blaise did not meander about and immediately started talking to Dean about his home theatre set-up. The Gryffindor was only too happy to share his knowledge with the Slytherin and they were soon standing in front of the latest and biggest of televisions in the entertainment section of the store.

“This is something I never thought I’d see happen,” Hermione told Seamus as they watched the normally smirking Blaise show actual excitement like a normal twenty-year-old.

“We didn’t expect it either,” said Seamus. “Draco started asking if guns were normal and if all muggles were like John McClane.”

“Blaise just quoted ‘Welcome to the party, pal’ to me earlier.”

Seamus chuckled. “Do you want to be there when we tell him there’s Die Hard 2 and Die Hard with a Vengeance?”

Hermione sniggered. “Wouldn’t miss it for all the chocolate frogs in Britain.”

Seamus laughed and they high-fived. “Galleon says he’ll make us do a movie marathon.”

“Galleon says there’ll be costumes.”

“If there is, you should go as Holly Gennero.”

Hermione put her hand to her face. “Oh Merlin…”

As they moved to the aisle of DVD players and surround system, Hermione looked around the store. Quite a few witches and wizards were browsing, interested in the things muggles had come up with. This was progress, she thought. This was what they fought for.

“This is really picking up, huh?” Hermione told Seamus. The Irishman nodded like he could not believe it himself. “You guys have really done well.”

“It helps when we have someone who believes in us,” said Seamus. “You and Harry’ve really encouraged the both of us, you know.”

“You were more than capable of it, Seamus.”

“Just about due. Haven’t set something on fire in a while.”

They both chuckled, but every now and again, Hermione noticed the Irishman would steal glances of Blaise and Dean. There was also something in his demeanour that was not quite the happy-go-lucky Seamus she knew.

“What else did you guys do for New Year’s?” Hermione tried.

Seamus smiled. “Oh, had a few drinks, a few laughs. Nothing could really be done after the telly came on. Draco, Theo and Blaise had a new catchphrase as they lit the fireworks, though.”

“Uh-oh. Do I even want to ask?”

“Something along the lines of ‘Yipee-Ki-Yay’.”

“Oh, Merlin’s pants!” Hermione chuckled. “This will be very interesting.”

Seamus chuckled, too, but again glanced at their friends.

“Everything okay?”

He reddened at being noticed. “It’s nothing.”

Hermione touched his arm. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything.”

Seamus seemed conflicted, but inclined his head to the side, inviting her for a walk. He scratched the back of his head nervously before putting his hands in his pockets. “I don’t even know how to get cracking.”

“Start at the beginning then.”

Seamus shook his head. “I don’t even know when that was.”

Hermione let him gather his thoughts and they slowly walked about the washing machines aisle.

“The wizarding community and the muggle community… They have varying opinions about various things,” he started. “Me mam was open with me about a lot of things in the wizarding community, but unlike the things we have here –” he gestured around the shop “– there are things that the muggle community are still behind on.”

Hermione nodded patiently.

Seamus glanced one more time at their friends and sighed. “This is brutal… I’ll just say it. I think I’ve fallen in love…”

That was not where Hermione thought her friend was going and it took her by surprise. However, before she could congratulate him, she noticed his sadness and once again he glanced… “Dean…” she said.

Seamus swallowed and nodded once.

“What do you mean with the difference of opinion in the wizarding and muggle communities?”

“Magical people do not care,” he said. “But muggles do. And Dean grew up in a muggle society.”

“You’re worried he would not feel the same way.”

Seamus smiled sadly. “Maybe if he grew up here, he would be more understanding.”

Hermione was taken aback by the implication. “Witches and wizards do not care?”

The Irishman shook his head. “Sophie and Sally-Anne are together. The Ropers are Purebloods and Sally-Anne is a Half-Blood. Sophie didn’t have a problem with her parents, but Sally-Anne’s mother still isn’t speaking to her. They told us about it when they bought a coffee machine from us.”

Hermione’s heart felt for him. Of course it should not matter, but prejudice of many kinds existed in the world. “Have you talked to Dean?”

Seamus shook his head. “We’ve been best friends since Hogwarts, Hermione. I can’t risk that. I can’t risk him.”

She put an arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I wish I have sound advice I can give you, Seamus, I really do, but I don’t know what to do either.”

“It’s okay. Being able to talk to you about it is huge on its own. Merlin, if he ever heard of triads, he’d flip.”

Hermione turned to him in surprise. “Triads?”

Seamus laughed at the look on her face. “See! My point exactly!”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault I don’t know this stuff. Apparently, there are many things we missed out on because they were taught at home.”

The Irishman nodded. “Want me to blow your mind one more time?”

Hermione straightened her back and prepared herself. “Try.”

The Irishman had a smirk that looked like trouble. “There’s a triad in the Founders.”

Hermione’s jaw fell and Seamus snatched a Polaroid camera from the shelf and took a picture.

Hermione returned to the Reserve on the back of Blaise’s broom after the charmer had taken her to lunch and bought her a television, a CD/DVD player and speakers of her own as a “Thank-you” and an “I’m-sorry-for-turning-up-at-your-house-at-an-ungodly-hour-especially-since-you-are-currently-on-the-night-shift”. They landed laughing in front of Hermione’s cottage when she noticed a redhead on Charlie’s porch that was not a Weasley. As she dismounted the broom, Hermione watched the woman talking to Charlie. She had a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes. Hermione guessed she was attractive. The woman was obviously flirting and Charlie stood by the threshold, smiling politely, his forearm leaning on the doorframe.

“Are you okay?” Blaise asked behind her and followed her line of sight. “Who’s that?”

“No idea,” said Hermione.

Charlie looked up at them, smiled and waved. Hermione waved back and so did Blaise.

The woman smiled, too, but Hermione could not care less about her. She said something to Charlie and then reached up to kiss his cheek.

Hermione felt her face burn and her smile disappear, her eyes turning murderous.

Blaise took her by the elbow and led her to the porch where he unlocked her door and brought her in.

“What the hell, Blaise?” Hermione asked as soon as he closed the door.

“What was that?” the Slytherin asked back.

“What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Princess.”

“I’m not –”

“If looks could kill, that woman would be burned to a crisp right now!”

Hermione huffed and threw her beaded bag on the couch and none too gently either. “Who the hell does she think she is?! Is there no decorum? Does she not have manners?”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “For kissing a single man on the cheek?”

“We don’t know how many people she’s been kissing.”

“No, Hermione. For kissing an _unattached_ man on the _cheek_.”

“Oh.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Is something going on between you and Charlie?”

“What? No!”

“Then why are you jealous?”

“What? I’m not jealous.”

Blaise looked at her, unimpressed.

“I’m not!”

“Tell me you didn’t think about setting her on fire and I’ll personally sponsor all your shopping for a year.”

Hermione pouted.

Blaise looked smug. Going to her kitchen, he filled her kettle with water and set it to boil.

“You think you can stop me from burning people and then just do whatever you want in my house?” Hermione called out. “Don’t you have a manor somewhere?”

“I have four actually,” said Blaise with an irritating smile and plopped down her couch, putting his feet up on her coffee table. “Shall we set up my gifts to you?”

“We didn’t buy any DVDs, stupid.”

“And what do you call those?” He pointed at the bottom of her bookshelf where her DVD collection of Disney movies lived.

“Those are nothing like Die Hard.”

Blaise shrugged. “We have time to kill.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “If you get an actual job, you’ll –”

“I don’t need an actual job, Princess. I pose and they pay me. I pick jobs when I’m bored. And right now, this is far more fun than posing.” The kettle whistled. “That would be our tea. Let’s do this.”


	27. The Research Project

The Research Team had gathered several books to bring to the Crèche for research. Unfortunately, though, most of the things in the archives were old and Eleonora did not want them out of the safety of her home, so they were restricted in the things they have brought back for the team to read. In addition to that, most of the important tomes, like the ones with loggings and information on Luminaria’s breed was in a different language that according to Adrian, only his mother and someone called Ry could translate for them. Avienne, the lead researcher for this project, had already petitioned Caine to allow this Ry to join the team, or at least be able to come and go to the Reserve where they could bring copies of the manuscripts and pages of the tomes, which would help them immensely. They were yet to hear his reply.

Previously, the team composed of Avienne, Hermione, Charlie, Memphis and Michan, with Adrian helping them solely on research. However, now that they were splitting the team to those who would do research and those who would watch over the newborns, they were presented with a problem in their numbers to cover the shifts. To amend the issue, Caine gave two more dragon keepers to the Crèche, Nicky and that woman Hermione saw flirting with Charlie, whose name was Sunny. What the hell kind of name was Sunny?

“Good morning, Hermione!”

 _Speaking of the bloody imp_ , Hermione thought and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Sunny Birch was a short, spirited woman with bouncing red curls and a constellation of freckles. She loved wearing shorts, even in freaking January and she was bubbly to the point of annoying. Hermione could not stand her. Every time the woman was around, Hermione could feel the hairs at the back of her neck rising and she did not know why. So far, she had been civil, but she knew Avienne could sense the hostility she had against the little red demon since they met on Monday. Thankfully, since Hermione was on nightshift and Sunny on dayshift ( _Ha-bloody-ha fucking irony_ , thought Hermione), they had not had a chance to spend much time with each other aside from the fifteen minutes between the changing of shifts.

“Whatcha readin’?” asked Sunny, plopping down on the chair beside her in the office.

“A book,” said Hermione, not bothering to look up. She could feel Luminaria raise her head from where Hermione was petting her on the table.

“I know it’s a book, silly. What about?”

“Dragons.”

“Oh.” Sunny giggled. “So, how have you liked the Reserve so far?”

“Good.”

“Hmm… not much of a talker, huh?”

Hermione finally looked up. The woman was still smiling at her. She was older than Hermione by a couple of years at most. She had a round face and maybe a pretty smile, but Hermione could see nothing in her that would impress.

“There you go,” Sunny said. “It’s nice to see your face.”

“Can I help you?”

Sunny shrugged a shoulder shyly. “Well, we’ve been working together for a week now and I still haven’t really gotten a chance to talk to you. I’ve heard so many good things. I thought maybe we could be friends?”

Hermione wanted to throttle her, but blinked out the thought. She was being unreasonable. The woman was nice and, honestly, had given her no reason for her irrational behaviour. Hermione sighed. She was being one of those girls she hated back at school. To amend that, she nodded her head at Sunny ( _Urgh, what kind of name is – stop it, Hermione!_ ). “All right, then.”

Sunny smiled eagerly. “Great! So what kind of dragon is she? Caine didn’t really tell us much, but I wanted to work here for quite some time now, so when he asked who wanted to transfer, I volunteered.” She let out a giggle. “She’s really cute, isn’t she?”

Luminaria was looking at the woman with big eyes, as though shocked she said all of that without a pause to breathe, and looked at Hermione. The brunette shrugged a shoulder.

“Oh, she could cry though. Apparently, she doesn’t do that much with you and Charlie, so I told Avienne she could maybe transfer one of you to the dayshift. It’ll be fun. Charlie hasn’t been here long, but he’s gotten on really well with everyone. Apparently, people are still a little intimidated by you. Maybe if you smile a little that will change.” She giggled again. “I hope you don’t mind. I don’t really mean anything by it.”

Luminaria ducked her head and covered it with her wing, tucking her tail in and groaning. Hermione could understand the feeling. She, too, wanted to do just that.

“Ooh, and apparently you and Charlie are close. Apparently, he’s your mentor, too. You’re _so_ lucky!” She giggled. “He’s quite fit, isn’t he? Do you think you could talk me up?”

And there it was, thought Hermione, but did not say anything.

Sensing her disinterest, Sunny continued on. “So, Avienne said, you’d transfer Lumi to me. I’ll take care of her for the rest of the day –”

Luminaria let out a wail, looking at Hermione with big pleading eyes, like she was begging the brunette not to leave her with this woman. Hermione tried her best not to laugh. Instead, she carefully picked up the newborn.

“Sorry, Sunny, I think I’ll feed her first before I go,” said Hermione. She put her book in her bag and carried it and Luminaria out.

“See you around, Hermione!”

“Yeah…” Picking up her pace in case the redhead followed her, Hermione hugged Luminaria to her chest and kissed her tiny head. “Did you hear that, Lumi? Apparently, you’re with her today.”

The dragon growled and Hermione laughed.

“I know, I know. What are we going to do, huh?”

The dragon let out a purr and nuzzled on her neck. Hermione knew what that meant.

“Uh-uh, you know I can’t stay.”

A whine.

“She won’t be the only one here. Michan is staying, too.”

Luminaria let out a sharp exhale.

“Don’t be like that. I know he’s growing on you. He’s a fun guy if you give him a chance.”

The little dragon did not move. Hermione got the feeling that she was pouting. Running her fingernails softly through Lumi’s scales, Hermione began to softly hum. When they entered the Incubation Ward, they found Charlie with Nazuri while Michan and Nicky sat by.

“There she is,” said the Italian dragonologist, dragon-hide jacket and gloves at hand. “ _Ciao, bella_.”

“ _Ciao_ , Nicolo. How are you?” said Hermione, kissing both his cheeks.

“ _Buono, grazi_. You look amazing, _bellissima_ , like always. You know, we were just talking how very easy it is for you and Charlie to look after these two chicks, while us – _cavolo!_ We are crazy going here and there. They don’t stop. But you and Charlie –” he kissed his fingertips. “ _Ammazza!_ ”

Hermione chuckled. “Well, this one is having a hard time with Sunny.”

Luminaria let out a dramatic wail that made everyone laugh.

“Hush, you,” said Hermione and took the bottle of milk prepared for Luimaria. The little one slowly suckled. “Will you behave for Nicky today?”

The little one showed no sign of agreement.

“You know, he was the one who made my tattoo. He’s a very good artist.”

Luminaria stopped suckling for a bit to look at the image of her on Hermione’s shoulder, then began suckling again.

“That could be a good sign,” said Hermione to Nicky. “Hey, do me a favour. When you get her later, start drawing. Just show her how you draw. She might like it.”

Nicky looked sceptical but nodded nonetheless. “If you say so, _bella_ , I’d try anything.”

“What about you?” asked Charlie, looking down at Nazuri, who was also drinking his milk. “Will you behave, too?”

Nazuri lazily flicked his tail.

Charlie chuckled at the little red dragon before looking up at Hermione. “Time to get them to sleep.”

Hermione came closer to him as they both swayed the little ones and began to sing.

_Far longer than forever_

_I’ll hold you in my heart_

_It’s almost like you’re here with me_

_Although we’re far apart_

_Far longer than forever_

_As constant as a star_

_I close my eyes and I am where you are_

_Sure as the dawn brings the sunrise_

_We have unshakeable bonds_

_Destined to last for a lifetime and beyond_

_Far longer than forever_

_I swear that I’ll be true_

_I’ve made an everlasting vow to find a way to you_

_Far longer than forever_

_Like no love ever known_

_And with your love, I’ll never be alone_

_Far longer than forever_

_Much stronger than forever_

_And with your love, I’ll never be alone…_

As the two newborns were taken by slumber, Hermione looked up into Charlie’s blue, blue eyes staring down at her with softness and emotion she could not quite place. However, when she smiled and he smiled back, she saw whatever it was lingering there get snuffed like the flames of a candle disappearing in smoke. Hermione could not understand why, but she was saddened by its absence. Before she could truly mourn its loss, though, Charlie was already walking to put Nazuri in his furnace, so she simply took Luminaria in hers. But it bothered Hermione. The softness, the smile, the _something_ she saw in Charlie… she wanted that. He used to _always_ look at her like that, but this past week, it would always get snuffed out. It would always go. It would always stop. And then Charlie would turn or leave or sigh and talk about something else. And it was confusing her. Had she done something?

“All right, we’re leaving,” said Charlie, turning to the two men in the room. “Good luck.”

They both saluted and Hermione left with the redhead. She was still silent as they made their way down to the lockers to pick up their things. She wanted to talk to him, ask if everything was okay, but Charlie went on outside before her. Hermione sighed. What was going on between them?

By the time she went outside, Sunny was already talking to Charlie. She was her giggling self, pushing Charlie away just so she could touch his bicep, and Hermione could feel her anger rising again. Storming past them, she did not wait and began to walk home. The sun was hiding in the clouds today as Hermione trudged the wet earth like it was the one flirting with Charlie. Meanwhile, the Weasley redhead ran to catch up with her.

“Whoa, where’s the fire, Granger?”

“Nowhere. I just thought you’d like to talk some more with Little Miss Sunshine over there.”

“Little Miss Sunshine? Oh, you mean Sunny?”

“That’s what I said.”

Charlie chuckled and scratched his beard. “Why don’t you like her?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Hermione, a blind person could see you don’t like her.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to eradicate the irrational thoughts of setting the woman on fire. Damn it, Blaise was winning. “I – I don’t know. She’s fine. I don’t really know her.”

“Then why don’t you like her?”

“I don’t not like her. Drop it, Charlie.”

“Fine. Then why are you angry now?”

“I’m not.”

“Goodness sake, Hermione.” He pulled her by the arm and forced her to stop walking. “What is going on?”

“Nothing!”

Charlie looked at her, trying to read her, and Hermione wanted to admit that she hated the woman. She hated her for flirting with Charlie and giggling like crazy and for kissing him. And she was more than a little annoyed that he had not done anything to stop it.

Realizing her thoughts, Hermione took a step back and broke eye contact with the redhead. Did she like Charlie? No, impossible, she liked _Oliver_. She _wanted_ Oliver. “Fuck, I have to go.” Hermione pulled her arm from his grip and walked away.

“I can take you home,” Charlie called out to her, but she did not stop walking. Panic was rising and this was not good. She could not do this; it was far too complicated to even –

Charlie cut her off, hovering in front of her on his broom, his face serious, which told her that his patience was thinning. “Hermione, let me take you home. I won’t press you for anything if you don’t want to talk, but can we please just go?”

Hermione shook her head. “Just go on. I – I – I just want to walk.”

The redhead pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Not a good sign.

“Charlie, I really am okay,” she tried to sooth. “I just – I need some time to think. Please.”

Charlie silently nodded. “If you change your mind, patronus me.”

Hermione nodded, too. And with that as assurance, Charlie flew off. Hermione let out the breath she did not know she was holding.

With a shaky breath in, the witch collected her thoughts and began to walk. First off, where the hell did these thoughts come from? Hermione was not the jealous type. Well, there was that one time with Lavender Brown, but Hermione knew Ron was only using her and she was more hurt than jealous because she thought she and Ron finally had a chance – beyond the point!

Hermione stomped her foot and grunted in frustration. Now was not the time to think about that. Point being, she was more hurt than jealous of Lavender Brown, who merely had her teeth cleaned out for her by Ronald. It was more annoying and disturbing than anything else.

Secondly, Hermione needed to sort out her irritation for the _other_ redhead.

Thirdly, Hermione needed to sort out the apparent existence of her _feelings_ for the _Weasley_ redhead.

“Hermione?”

The witch looked up at the sound of her name and realized she was by the Medic Bay where Avienne was exiting. “What are you doing here?” asked Hermione. “I thought you were at the Wood Estate already.”

“On my way there,” said Avienne. “Just had to refill my potions stock. Why aren’t you at home?”

“I wanted to go for a walk.” But maybe this could be an opportunity. “Hey, can I go with you?”

“You just got out of your shift –”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that. Please, Vi. I just need to do this right now.”

Avienne considered her plea. “Fine, only two hours, though, and you’re back here to rest, okay?”

Hermione did not argue. Avienne brought out her broom and together they rode to Central before flooing to the Wood Estate. Adrian was already in the library waiting for them with Memphis and they had joined two tables together in the centre to pore their books over.

“Ah, we’ve got a recruit!” said Adrian in way of greeting.

“Hermione, welcome to the library,” said Memphis. He had a huge tome in front of him along with a stack of notes. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep away for long.”

“It’s a library, of course I wouldn’t,” said Hermione and she blushed remembering the last time she was here with Oliver. It had felt so right. They had fitted together so well. And now, with Charlie – immediately cutting off the thought, Hermione grabbed the book from her bag and began to read. Her love life could wait. She needed to focus on her dragons.

Three hours later, the four of them were in the dining room occupying one side of the long table discussing their findings as they ate. Things could be going smoother but a difference in perspective was causing an argument.

“I’m just saying we need to keep our options open,” said Avienne.

“Our options _have_ been open,” said Adrian, “but noo a think it’s time we call it. Lumi’s a Viking’s Throne –”

“Until I have all the details and information we have on Viking’s Throne Dragons, we will not be calling anything –”

“We dae have them –”

“Ones that we can understand, Adrian.” Avienne sighed. “This is unprecedented – and no, having one from thousands of years ago does not count!”

“Viking’s Throne?” a new voice asked and the four turned to see Eleonora under the beautiful archway to the room. “A dae have some knooledge aboot them. Would ye like ma help?”

“Mrs. Wood,” said Avienne, standing up to shake the woman’s hand. “Avienne Arkady. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s mine. And please, call mae Eleonora.”

Avienne nodded gracefully. “Eleonora, these are my colleagues, Memphis Blain, and I believe you’ve already met Hermione Granger.”

“Aye, a hae. Noo, hoo aboot ye all finish yer meal and we’ll talk in the living room.” She looked pointedly at Adrian before gracing them all with a smile and leaving.

Adrian sighed and bowed her head. “A apologize, Avienne. Yer the leader af this team. A should’ve trusted yer judgement.”

The silver-haired witch seemed to be surprised by the change in the Scot but courteously accepted his apology. They ate without further more arguments and then, after, went to find Eleonora in the living room.

The older witch sat on an armchair with two gigantic tomes before her. One tome sat on the coffee table, taking up almost half its size and another tome levitated in front of her. It was the same heavy tome that Hermione had seen with Oliver down at the archives, the same one Adrian had been trying to decipher. Both were nearly Hermione’s arm’s length and as thick as her hand from fingertip to wrist.

When they came and sat, Eleonora called for Lattie, a house-elf, and ordered tea and cake. Five minutes later, tea was poured and delicious lemon curd cheesecakes were served.

“Tae get anywhere with dragons, ye must first understand them,” said Eleonora.

“With all due respect, ma’am,” said Memphis. “We’re all dragon keepers.”

Eleonora smiled, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Are ye? Tell mae, Mister Blain, hae ye ever talked tae wan?”

Memphis shrugged. “All the time.”

“And hae they ever responded?”

“In growls and stuff.”

“Naw, Mister Blain. Hae ye ever heard wan _talk back_?”

Memphis’ eyebrows shot up. “Er…”

“A’ll take that as a naw.” Eleonora flicked her wand and the tome on the table opened and levitated above them, while the other shut and took its place at the coffee table. After magically flicking pages, it stopped on one that portrayed a drawing of a dragon with a Viking by its side in its yellowed pages. Like all magical illustrations, this one moved and showed the dragon roaring and breathing out fire while the Viking beside it looked on proudly.

“Lang before witches and wizards thought tae understand the fire-breathing beasts, Vikings rode them tae battle. Before we’ve had tae hide and make our existence fade frae muggle memory, these beasts walked and lived in auld Viking villages and communicated messages with our ancestors.”

With a wave of Eleonora’s wand, the pages turned again. This time, it landed on pages showing two gigantic dragons in flight with Vikings on their backs.

“The Vikings af auld used tae ride dragons and commune with them. Ancient magic flooed through their veins and the dragons were the key many wicked men and women hoped tae get tae bend tae their will and enslave.

“In their wisdom, the dragons had elected tae change the ways af men. Greed was and always has been a powerful motivation. Still is. So with ancient magic, the dragons chose tae elect wan that would rise above all species. Wan tae rule. Wan that ancients called the Timeless.”

The pages of the book flipped quickly once more and landed on an illustration of several dragons and Vikings gathered in a circle. An altar dripping with blood stood at the top and one dragon sat on top of it. The dragons were blowing fire to the skies and the one on the altar looked on regally.

“With a great sacrifice, the ancients called forth ancient magic and crooned _wan_ _dragon_ as king or queen in time tae come. _That_ dragon would then choose _wan mortal_ tae bond with. Since then, the dragons hae been silent. Since then the powers af ancient magic hae slept until the Timeless rose again and chose a mortal tae share a bond.”

A lump was on Hermione’s throat and she was having trouble breathing. The ancient dragon, the Timeless as Eleonora called it, looked like a more mature version Luminaria.

“Every thoosand years, only wan is hatched. The last knoon hatching was 990 AD.” The pages moved once more and stopped at an image of a woman in blue robes with long black hair cradling a dragon that looked _exactly_ like Luminaria to her chest. She would look down and the dragon would look up and nuzzle her chin.

In the back of Hermione’s mind, a memory tingled, but she could not bring it up. She knew this woman. But how? When? Panic was growing in her chest. How could she possibly know this witch that was alive a thousand years ago?

Eleonora looked right at Hermione and the younger witch stopped breathing altogether. “The more recent wan hatched in December 1998.” She nodded at the tattoo on Hermione’s shoulder.

That was when Hermione blacked out.

When Hermione came to, it was to gaze directly into purple eyes. “Hmm… Vienne? What happened?”

“You passed out, honey,” said Avienne, looking concerned. “You should get back to the Reserve and rest. You haven’t have any time –”

“No, no, I’m fine.” She pushed herself up to sit.

“Hermione, please –”

“No, really, I’m okay.” Hermione looked around to see Adrian and Memphis eyeing her with concern and Eleonora looking at her with apprehension. “Sorry, it just – I mean – it’s a lot to take in.”

“Only when yer still fighting it,” said Eleonora. “Only when ye havnae accepted yer fate.”

At the word ‘fate’ Hermione recalled the words of Andromeda Tonks.

_“The third happens when magic itself makes a way for them to meet, know each other and decide. Once they commit to the route the magic has chosen for them, then they become Fated. If they do not, however, they will live the rest of their lives knowing something went wrong.”_

Was this the route magic has chosen for her? She recalled her conversation with Oliver in the archives. She had asked him if Solveig was the only one that the dragon could connect to, but he did not answer her. Now, Hermione was thinking that Solveig was not the only one. Because the dragon could also connect with her Eirik. Because they were Fated. They were one. They both accepted the bond with the dragon.

She thought of Charlie, how he possessed all the abilities that she was showing. He got along with Luminaria and also with Nazuri and Adherion. But Oliver had an attachment to Adherion and Luminaria got along with him, too.

“Hermione?” Concerned purple eyes filled her vision once more.

“I think I’ll go home after all,” said Hermione. “I’m sorry, Eleonora. I’m just –”

“Ye dae what feels right fer ye, Hermione,” the older witch said kindly, but Hermione got the feeling she was talking about more than right now.

Getting up, Avienne escorted Hermione to the fireplace and Hermione prepared to go, but not before she made the silver-haired woman promise to fill her up on all that they had learned today.

***

Charlie walked into the Crèche later that afternoon feeling slightly anxious. Hermione was a smart woman and she was noticing the changes in him. She had been patient with him all week, but whenever she saw him talking to Sunny, she would become irritated. Apparently, he had consumed the last of her patience earlier.

Charlie had to admit, if Hermione suddenly changed around him and only talked to Nicky, he would be pissed, too. He should have handled things better. Talked to her properly or something. He tried waiting for her in her cottage, but he fell asleep without seeing her. When he woke up, he tried to look over but could not see her. She was probably still asleep. When he knocked on her door so they could go to work, however, she never answered. So he went alone, hoping she was here somewhere.

“Hey, Charlie!” Sunny greeted him.

“Hey, Sunny. Have you seen Hermione around?”

“Yeah, she’s in the Incubation Ward with Avienne. Why are you here?”

Charlie looked at her curiously. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I thought Avienne switched with you?”

“What?” Confused, Charlie went up to the Incubation Ward where Avienne and Hermione were huddled over Lumi’s furnace. “Hey, Avienne, why did Sunny say –” Charlie stopped.

Hermione was crying. She had tears in her eyes, which she hastily wiped as she turned her back to him and Avienne blocked his view.

“Hey, didn’t you get my note?” asked Avienne.

“What note?” asked Charlie.

“I left you one – doesn’t matter.” She pulled Charlie out of the Ward by his arm. “I’m switching with you. You can take over my shift tomorrow morning.”

“Fine, but why is Herm –”

“Doesn’t matter. See you tomo –”

“It ‘doesn’t matter’? She’s crying!”

The silver-haired witch huffed. “Why don’t you say it louder, Charlie? I think they haven’t heard you all the way to the cabins!”

Charlie ran his hand through his hair. “What happened?”

“Nothing you should concern yourself about.”

“I’m sorry, have you met me? This is _Hermione_ we’re talking about!” Charlie went back to the Ward, ignoring Avienne’s protests. When he came in, Hermione tried to straighten herself. “What happened? Are you okay?”

She faked a smile. “Yeah, absolutely. I’m fine.”

“Hermione, please, talk to me.”

The witch looked him in the eye and for a split second, looking at her so vulnerable made Charlie want to take her in his arms, but he blinked the thought away and looked somewhere else to distract himself.

Hermione huffed and shook her head. “Exactly what I thought,” she muttered and crossed her arms on her chest.

She knew. Of course, she did. Charlie felt himself blush in shame. She trusted him to be her friend, to support her, and now he went ahead and fell for his brother’s ex-girlfriend whom the idiot hurt and cheated on. Of course, she would never feel the same way about Charlie. It was a miracle she trusted him after what Ron did and now, he had violated that trust. If Oliver were here, he’d probably hex Charlie, too. Or worse, be absolutely disappointed that the man he thought he could trust turned out to be the one person he could not leave his woman around.

“There you are!” said Sunny, entering the room. “So, is Charlie free tonight or what?”

“Yeah, he is,” said Avienne.

“Cool! Hey, we’re going out for a few drinks. Wanna come?”

Charlie ran a hand through his hair. Might as well. “Yeah…”

“Awesome!” Sunny took his hand and dragged him out of the room. Charlie could not even look at Hermione in the eye.

They went to a pub over the mountains, miles from where the warding protection stopped and muggle towns spread. Charlie let himself drown in drink, thoughts of Hermione plaguing him. Thell and Michan were not leaving him alone despite his protests. Raphael and Ardy were already chatting up a bird. Charlie kept telling them to go with their brothers, but stubbornly, the two eldest Waters’ did not move. Sunny was ordering them another round.

“Careful, Charlie, take it easy,” said Michan.

“Mate, what’s going on?” Thell urged him for the umpteenth time.

Charlie shook his head. “I said it’s nothing. Just fucked up a few things.”

The brothers looked at each other in a way that reminded Charlie of the twins whenever they were silently communicating. Merlin, the twins! They, too, were protective of Hermione and treated her like a sister. If they ever found out, Charlie would be waking up to Dungbombs and U-no-poo for months!

“What few things have you fucked up?” asked Michan.

Charlie did not really feel like going through the list right now, so he simply emptied his pint. Sunny came in bringing another trey and she handed it out to the boys. Despite the protests of the two, Charlie picked up another pint. He let her talk. It distracted the lads from questioning him.

Avoiding Hermione was impossible and truth be told, Charlie did not necessarily want to do that. He just needed to keep his head straight. And until he got over whatever he was feeling, there may be no hope.

A hand on his thigh took his attention and he turned to see Sunny talking animatedly to Michan and Thell. As subtly as he could, Charlie pulled himself from her touch. A few minutes later, as more patrons came in the bar, Sunny pushed up against him. She giggled and apologized, so Charlie simply angled himself another way as to not have her breasts touching his arm.

However, it was when he was almost backed up against the wall with Sunny’s hand slowly climbing up his thigh that Charlie looked down and saw her flirtatiously smiling at him. He was not too drunk not to understand what she wanted and what she was trying to do. Suddenly, Thell and Michan hovering made sense. Dread filled Charlie. Merlin, if Hermione ever found out…

As gentlemanly as Arthur Weasley had ingrained in his boys, Charlie took the woman’s hand off of him. “Listen, Sunny, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“What isn’t?” The woman ran her hands up his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. Fuck.

“Thell!” Charlie called.

The eldest Waters’ stood up, a head taller than everyone else. “Yeah?”

“We’re leaving.”

Sunny giggled. “Your place or mine?”

“No, no,” said Charlie. “Thell and I are leaving.” He untangled her away from him and clutched onto Thell before hastily leaving the pub. “Don’t fucking let that woman anywhere near me,” he murmured. “I don’t want to die.”

***

Seeing another woman take Charlie by the hand and lead him away from her hurt like a stake in her heart. And Hermione could not help but crumple down to the hard ground of the Incubation Ward and cry, clutching at her sternum. It hurt. It _physically_ hurt. Especially because he willingly let her take him.

Rationally, Hermione knew there was nothing going on between her and Charlie. She was well aware that they were just friends. And being in that library today, she was reminded of Oliver and their beautiful unofficial date and how she felt about him. So why was she heartbroken over Charlie?

Avienne comforted her and embraced her until the tears stopped. The older woman soothed her and caressed her back and whispered to her, but still it was some time before Hermione could breathe normally. When she did, Avienne summoned the logs closer so they could sit down. From her messenger bag, she pulled out a thermos and poured two cups of tea for them.

“Tell me, honey, what is it?” she soothingly asked as she gave Hermione’s cup to her.

“I’m so confused,” said Hermione, letting the warmth of the tea centre her. “Vi, I like Oliver, I really do. We had such an amazing time during the New Year, but then… I saw Charlie with _her_ and it’s like something in me just want to set her on fire. And now, now he just let her take him and he’s turning cold towards me and I don’t know what I’ve done or what to do. He treats me differently. I don’t understand.” Hermione was spiralling, but Avienne simply told her to drink her tea. So she did and instantly felt calm. There was a Calming Draught in this tea.

“Better?” asked Avienne and Hermione nodded and wiped her eyes. “Good. I actually wanted to talk to you that’s why I came prepared with this.” She took a deep breath. “Hermione, there are things I haven’t told you and one of them is that while you, Memphis and Adrian were researching about the dragon, I was researching something else.” She pulled out a journal wrapped in red leather. “I was researching about the Fated.”

Hermione’s brows knitted in confusion. “Why?”

“Because one of the things that the Viking’s Throne can do is to bring forth the Fated.”

Hermione blinked a few times. She was desperately trying not to go blank. “Wait, I thought you wanted to get all the details before you establish Lumi as –”

“I think we’re past that at this point,” said Avienne. “Eleonora showed us the paintings and the portraits of previous Dragon Riders and their dragons. Hermione, they look like her. Lumi is the dragon born in this millennium and I think it’s without a doubt that you are her Chosen Rider.”

Hermione swallowed. Was this what it was like for Harry finding out that he was the Chosen One? Was this what it was like for him having to learn that he had to be the One to defeat Voldemort? How did Harry handle it? Hermione was desperately trying not to have a panic attack and not hyperventilate.

A screech interrupted them and Hermione turned around to see Luminaria looking about in concern. When the tiny dragon saw her, she crawled to the edge of her furnace and leapt. Hermione caught her and hugged her and the little dragon purred soothingly, as though comforting her.

Hermione took a deep breath. It felt like her magical core was being stroked and she was being cocooned in warmth and affection. It assuaged her nerves until she felt like she had taken one of Fred and George’s calming bath bombs. When she opened her eyes, Avienne was watching her and Luminaria in awe.

“I guess that proves it,” said Avienne with a smile.

This time, Hermione finished her tea and hoped that the calming effects of it would linger longer.

“As I was saying,” said Avienne, “the Viking’s Throne has the ability to bring forth the Fated. According to Eleonora and her books, of which she showed us several more, because the magic is now concentrated on this one dragon to rule over the others, the mortal bonded to them must also have the strength and magic to match their own. Every Chosen Rider has always been a powerful witch or wizard with pure magic – meaning they’ve never touched or done dark magic.”

“I have scars because of dark magic,” said Hermione.

“Yes, but you did not do it to yourself or to others, now, did you?”

The brunette shook her head. It was the same thing Oliver had told her.

“Then that’s that. And there is no doubt you are a powerful witch, Hermione. Now, the need for the Fated is simply this: when Fated, the witch and wizard –”

“Share their life forces and magical cores. They strengthen each other, and when they are truly united, they are unbeatable.”

Avienne raised an eyebrow. “What the hell am I teaching you for, then?”

Hermione smiled. “Oliver told me that when he told me the story of the First Rider, Solveig.”

Avienne’s eyes went wide. “He told you? That’s good. Did he tell you about Herlief as well?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Then it makes sense, right?”

“What does?”

“Your situation.”

Hermione was confused again. “What?”

Avienne smiled and placed a hand on her arm. “Hermione, Herlief was Fated to two women. They were a triad.”

***

Charlie woke up in the middle of the night with a pounding headache and groaned. He looked to his side table only to realize it was not there and he was not his room. Suddenly wide awake, he sat bolt upright and looked around. There was a creak as someone moved beside him and Charlie realized he wasn’t alone in the bed.

_Fuck! What did I do?!_

“Whoa, where’s the fire, Weasley?”

Charlie turned to the croaky, sleepy voice beside him and sighed in relief. “Thell, what the fuck am I doing in your room?”

From the moonlight that lit up Thell’s face, Charlie saw the man roll his eyes. “You were the one who wouldn’t let me go, arsehole. Kept muttering you didn’t want to die or something. What was that about?”

“Oh.” Charlie scratched his beard. “I think Sunny was coming on to me.”

Thell laughed. “Really?”

“Yeah, I think she –”

“Planned this whole exertion just to get your pure, innocent arse to bed? Merlin, what gave it away? The fact that she kept buying you drinks or the other fact that she kept trying to feel you up?”

Charlie clutched his head. It felt like it was trying to split open. “I’m fucked. I’m so dead.”

“If you don’t shut up soon, you will be. Let me sleep, arsehole.” Thell turned around and covered his face with his arm.

With a groan, Charlie fell back to bed and covered his head with a pillow. The only thought in his head was thank Merlin, Hermione could not possibly find out.

***

Hermione was dreaming. She must be.

This was the Wood Estate from how she saw it when she and Oliver went there before Christmas. Covered in snow, the entire place looked like a winter wonderland. Before her, the frozen fountain stood, only it was different. Instead of two statues, there were now five.

Hermione moved towards the big memorial surrounded by forever frozen splashes. Beside Solveig stood a powerful Viking wearing a helmet with antlers. His strong body was covered in leather armour. In one hand, he held a gigantic spear, while on the other, a horn.

Meanwhile, beside Herlief were two women, who could not be more different from each other. One wore elegant robes with long unfurled hair swept by the wind holding a scroll. The other wore leather armour and had her face painted. She held two swords and looked formidable.

A great beating of wings captured Hermione’s attention and she turned to see a gigantic black dragon with scales gradually turning indigo tipped with yellow-orange gracefully descend where she previously stood.

_Greetings, youngling._

Hermione stepped back in surprise at the melodic voice that sounded inside her head. “Who are you?”

 _I am Eimhir, the dragon of the previous Rider._ The mighty beast bowed her head to the ground in recognition of Hermione. _I am honoured to finally meet you_.

Hermione herself carefully curtsied. The image that popped into her mind was Harry in their third year bowing before Buckbeak before laughter filled her head.

_I consider myself a bigger, more powerful beast, but I suppose we both are proud creatures._

“How are you doing this? If I may ask.”

 _You may, youngling. That is why I came. Every Rider has the ability to hear a dragon’s voice. At the moment, I am using ancient magic to bring you here, that you may see who you truly are._ The dragon sat down regally, crossing her arms in front of her and lifting her chin. The way the sun hit her scales in this… dreamscape, Hermione supposed… she looked quite majestic. _As the current Rider, you have the knowledge of all the past Riders behind you. In time, they will come to speak with you. And in time, you will learn to call on them. For now, I am to be your teacher and your guide._

Hermione swallowed. “Why now? Why did you choose to come to me now?”

_Because Luminaria is concerned of you. You are highly emotional and while you are still learning your magic and remain unaccepting of the truth of the power bestowed upon you, you shall remain so._

“I am not emotional,” said Hermione.

_I disagree. You are allowing what you feel to cloud your judgement and so you choose to remain in denial because the implication of the truth you face is difficult for you to handle. You have been this way for quite some time._

Hermione was offended, but in realizing that, she supposed she _was_ being emotional.

 _Now that you see it, you can recognize it within yourself._ Eimhir nodded approvingly at her. _Now that you know, how will you proceed?_

“I don’t know… There are so many things going on and I’m overwhelmed.”

_Then focus on one thing at a time, youngling._

“Hermione. My name is Hermione.”

The dragon nodded but said nothing.

Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. “Luminaria is the new Viking’s Throne,” she said instead, stating it as a fact for the first time and admitting to herself the implication of it. “And I am the new Rider. What does that mean? Why now?”

 _You know why_.

“Why would I ask you if I know?”

_Because you’ve repressed it. If you let it come to the surface, your remembrance will show you._

“I don’t understand.”

_Because you refuse to._

This time, Hermione could not help the growl that came out of her and she stomped her foot on the snow. “I am trying! There are so many things to know and I feel like everything is culminating and I am out of my depths.” She looked at the dragon pleadingly. “If you’re here to guide me, then please, _please_ , do it. What do I do?”

Eimhir stood up and slowly walked over to her. _Do not control the things you cannot. Learn to accept the things you can. And do not trap yourself with restrictions that do not exist for you. You are the new Rider. What can you not do? What is out of the power of the destined Queen of Dragons?_

Eimhir lowered her head to Hermione, which began to glow. When the dragon closed her eyes, Hermione followed her lead and leaned her face to the glow of the ancient beast.

_“HARRY, RUN!” Hermione shouted as behind them shelves upon shelves began to topple over and break, their contents slipping and smashing onto the floor._

_All around them, spells were being cast and Hermione tucked her panic into the corner of her mind. Ron and Ginny had gone through the revolving doors taking Luna with them. It was now only her, Neville and Harry here. It was indeed a trap and Sirius was nowhere to be seen in the Department of Mysteries._

_“Over here!” said Harry and brought her along with him through one of the other doors. Balls of prophecy followed them, spreading everywhere._

_Going through one of the rooms, Hermione carefully made sure not to touch any of the jars and items here when the door banged open once more and a Death Eater followed them in._

_“I gotcha now, Potter,” he taunted. “I gotcha now.”_

_“_ Bombarda! _”_

_A shelf blew up and spilled its contents on a Death Eater, whose head began to cycle through years from a baby to a grown man in mere seconds before starting over and over again._

_“Time,” said Hermione. “It’s Time!”_

_They were running again into a different room. Hermione could no longer keep track. The next thing she knew, someone had yelled “_ IMPEDIMENTA! _” and Neville was thrown behind a desk, Hermione onto a bookshelf and Harry slammed onto a wall._

_“WE’VE GOT HIM!” yelled a Death Eater. There were two of them and Dolohov had his eyes trained on her. He slashed his wand._

_Hermione yelled out, “_ Silencio! _” before the other Death Eater could give away their position, but felt flames lick her body and an unimaginable pain engulfed her. Hermione fell to the cold floor, hearing Harry screaming her name and the battle go on around her. Fear was a vice tightening around her heart and pain was setting her whole body on fire._

_Before her, a glass orb rolled and out of it came a pearly-white figure of a woman with her hair in two braids, wearing a flowing garment. She was rounded and familiar, but Hermione could not remember from where she knew her. The woman then began to speak._

“As the time of darkness closes and people once again sleep in peace in their beds, out of new blood will be born the darkness once again… As the millennia ends, the one who will take the Viking’s Throne will be marked… And as ancient blood magic emerges, she who rests in the fire will cleanse us once for all…”

_And then everything became dark._

Hermione gasped as she came out of the vision to look into the ancient, glowing green eyes of the dragon before her. “The Battle in the Department of Mysteries,” she said. “That’s where I heard the Viking’s Throne! It was a prophecy.” She looked at the beast for confirmation and Eimhir nodded. “And the witch who said the prophecy, I’ve seen her before.”

Again, Eimhir nodded.

“She was Helga Hufflepuff, wasn’t she?”

Eimhir blew white smoke from her nostrils in approval of Hermione’s answer. _Every Rider is Fated with a Seer._

Hermione remembered the illustration in the tome that Eleonora showed them of the raven-haired witch in blue robes. “And the last Rider was Rowena Ravenclaw, wasn’t she?”

Hermione felt the dragon’s approval. Eimhir bowed her head to the ground and spread her wings out. _Come with me, child._

Getting the impression that the ancient dragon wanted to take her for a ride, Hermione found a way to climb – from the dragon’s arm, up her shoulder and onto the base of her neck. Once secure, the towering dragon rose up and walked Hermione to the back gardens of the Estate as they talked. Surprisingly, as they walked to the gardens, the snow lessened until it vanished. And they walked among the green grass and beautiful flowers.

 _Youngling_ , said Eimhir in Hermione’s mind. _Your mind is sharp, of that there is no denying. However, your fear and emotionality not only blinds and hinders you, but it quenches your instincts. It diminishes the power of which you are capable. Your dragon is a month old now, yet she is still to speak with you._

“Lumi can talk to me at a month old?”

_If you let her, yes. The more time she spends with you, the stronger your bond will grow. If she doesn’t leave your side, it will strengthen all the more._

Hermione frowned. “We take shifts in the Crèche.”

_Dragon and Rider used to share homes. Where the Rider went, so did we. We are one._

Hermione worried her lip. She did not think Caine would allow that, but then again, did Eimhir not tell her she was powerful enough? What could she not do? Beneath her, the dragon stirred in agreement with her thoughts. She would have to talk to Caine.

“So I have to control my emotions,” Hermione said with determination and acceptance. “And I have to allow my instincts to take over.”

_In a word, yes. Focus your mind. The growth of my kind is not like those of the others because of the ancient magic ingrained in us. And once Luminaria begins to grow and mature, she will bring those around her to faster growth and maturity as well. I have no doubts the dragons will be healthier and stronger. They will not be so harsh, but will be kinder. More so to you than others, but those around them are bound to see the difference._

“Why is that?”

There was a delightful little chuckle in Hermione’s mind. _Whoever misbehaves in the presence of their destined Queen?_

Hermione, too, smiled then wondered. “Am I their Queen or is it Luminaria?”

The dragon turned her head to Hermione. _You and Luminaria are one. You are dragon in human form, and she is you in dragon form. In time, you will see this._

Maybe she already has, Hermione thought. It took six stunners to stun a dragon and six stunners to contain Hermione. Dragons could not be hurt by fire. Neither could Hermione. The Gryffindor took in a slow breath but did not allow the information to overwhelm her. In her mind, she felt the dragon beneath her smile.

_You learn quickly, youngling. Once, you have called Reinmar to you in a time of distress. When you accept who you are and accept the gift given you, your bond with the dragons will grow. All dragons. And when you call them, for war or for peace, they will hear you._

“Reinmar? You mean the Ridgeback?”

_The very same._

“Huh…” Hermione smiled.

 _Now…_ They had reached the edge of the garden and Eimhir looked down the cliff. _Youngling, are you ready?_

Hermione’s eyes suddenly widened and her smile disappeared. “Ready? Ready for what?”

_For your first flying lesson, of course._

Eimhir opened her wings and, with no further warning, leapt off the side of the cliff towards the lake below. A scream tore off Hermione’s throat.

***

Charlie ran to his cottage as soon as he woke up in the morning. He drank a Sober-Up potion and made quick work of showering and dressing. All the while, all that ran in his mind was the witch he had hurt yesterday. Could Hermione forgive him? It was not as if he planned to fall in love with her. Still, he should apologize and talk to her. Properly. Perhaps they could salvage this friendship still.

Leaving his house, Charlie rode his broom and flew to the Crèche. On his way there, he saw Sunny coming from the direction of the north-western valley, calling and waving at him. Great. He leaned down further in his broom and willed it to go faster.

As soon as he landed, Charlie pressed the code to the Crèche and rushed into the crevice. What he found was Avienne and Memphis by the door of the office, tensed to fight.

“Guys,” he called and Memphis threw his hand behind him, signalling Charlie to stop.

“Slowly… slowly…” said Memphis and moved to the side, to let Charlie through.

Cautiously, Charlie entered the office. Hermione was asleep with her head perched on her crossed arms that were on the table. What took his attention, however, was the fact that Lumi was staring at Hermione with her nubs, fins and wing-edges glowing. Not only that, but Nazuri had his spikes up and his wings out in a threatening stance against Avienne and Memphis. He was protecting Lumi and Hermione, assuring that whatever was going on with Lumi was not interrupted.

“Hey, baby,” said Charlie softly. “Hey, mate. It’s okay. Dada’s here. You’re safe.”

Nazuri growled heavily and screeched. It was a warning. He did not want Charlie to come any closer.

“How long has he been like this?” Charlie asked.

“Close to an hour,” said Avienne.

“And how’s Hermione?”

“She seems to be fine. She’s mumbling in her sleep, but I think she’s fine.”

“And Lumi?”

“We don’t know. She hasn’t moved in an hour.”

Charlie looked at the black-scaled dragon. “Lumi… Sweetie…” Nothing. No response. He cautiously took a step forward and Nazuri growled, unfurling his wings upwards in an effort to look bigger. Charlie stepped back again. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s o –”

Hermione screamed awake and stood up so quickly, her chair toppled behind her. Her arms flapped about as if she was about to fall and she stepped back a few times until she hit the shelf and collapsed to the ground.

“Hermione!” Charlie ran to her. To hell with two dragons. To hell with getting burnt. He covered her with his body, certain he would feel flames on his back, but nothing came. When he looked up, he was staring into wide amber-flecked chocolate brown eyes.

“Charlie…” Her voice sounded so relieved, it made him ache.

“Hey. Are you okay?” he asked her, pushing her hair out of her face.

Hermione looked around her and saw Memphis and Avienne, still poised to defend and tensed. Then she looked at the table where both Lumi and Nazuri, who had calmed immensely, were looking at them, too.

“Oh, Luminaria,” sighed Hermione, getting up to her knees and extending her arms to the newborn. Without second thought, Lumi jumped into it and Hermione cradled her into her arms, allowing her to nuzzle her neck. “You’re a very smart dragon! You amazing little thing!”

On the table, Nazuri let out a rumble from his chest and squawked at Charlie, calling him.

“Oh, now you want to play nice,” said Charlie and caught Nazuri, who simply jumped, trusting Charlie to catch him despite his irritation. As though apologizing, Nazuri purred and nuzzled Charlie’s beard until he got Charlie to laugh. “All right, all right, I forgive you. Little tyke.”

Beside him, Hermione smiled. “What did he do?”

“He was protecting you,” said Avienne, who had finally relaxed at the edge of the table.

From underneath Hermione’s chin, Lumi emitted soft growls and short screeches as if trying to tell the story.

“Ha!” said Hermione and laughed as though she could not quite believe it. “You’re such a wonderful, wonderful little dragon, Lumi! I love you so much!” She turned to Nazuri and scratched his chin. “And you, my brave little one! Thank you very much.”

“For what?” Charlie asked, confused.

Hermione smiled at him with a twinkle in her eyes that made his chest tighten. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, bunny.”

Charlie smiled despite himself. “Try me.”

Just then, a voice intervened. “What’s going on?”

Hermione’s attention shifted to the door where Sunny stood between Memphis, Michan, Nicky and Avienne.

From Charlie’s chest, Nazuri hissed and growled and let out short screeches. Lumi, too, growled, but when she looked at Hermione, her screeches did not seem angry. Charlie did not know how, but he got the feeling he used to get when Ginny would tell their mum what Ron did to her.

Charlie was about to ask what was happening, when Hermione extended her hand to Nazuri and the little Fireball jumped on without hesitation. He climbed to Hermione’s shoulder and perched there. That was when Charlie did not know what he was more nervous about: the fact that the two newborns were getting aggressive or the fact that Hermione looked poised yet murderous at the same time.

The mahogany-haired witch stood up and walked up to Sunny, shoulders back, back straight. “You can go back to wherever it was you were assigned to before,” Hermione told her, deathly calm. “And you will not set foot here again.”

Sunny looked at the four other dragon keepers beside her and swallowed. “I don’t think you’re the one who gets to decide that.”

Nazuri screeched, Lumi growled and Hermione smiled. Charlie was scared for Sunny’s life.

“Let’s talk to Caine, then,” said Hermione and left the Crèche.

Charlie nodded at the others and followed her out, all with a broom in hand. He was about to call her name and tell her she could ride with him when a dragon roared from above them. With a great big thud, the Ridgeback landed in front of Hermione. Everyone immediately had their wands out.

“Hermione, move!” shouted Memphis, but he was ignored.

Hermione went towards the great beast and climbed up his arm, onto his shoulder and perched on his neck. When she was settled, she looked at Sunny with a piercing gaze and said something Charlie did not catch before the Ridgeback flew away with her.

“What the fuck just happened?!” shouted Michan.

“This is – no, no, no, no, this is impossible!” said Nicky, clutching his hair and staring at the direction of the gigantic dragon.

“This is it,” said Avienne, awe in her voice and all over her face. “This is it! Let’s go! Brooms up!”

Charlie mounted his broom and followed the beast that was carrying the fiercest, strongest, most formidable witch he had ever seen in his life! To hell with burying his feelings. Charlie decided to jump right in.

***

Reinmar landed with a great thud in front of Central and scared a few dragon keepers inside as he did. With the confidence she never thought she could possess, Hermione climbed down his back with Nazuri on her shoulder and Luminaria in her arms. To her right, Charlie, Avienne, Nicky, Memphis, Michan and Sunny cautiously landed their brooms.

“Go,” Hermione told Reinmar and patted his neck. “I’ll call for you when I need you.”

In her arms, Luminaria voiced her thanks to the dragon, who bowed his head to both of them before flying up. Just then, dragon keepers came flooding out of the entrance to Central, wands limp by their sides and mouths agape to what they had just witnessed. When Hermione walked forward with her dragons, they parted for her.

Hermione went up the stairs to Caine’s office knowing full well that her entourage were only a few steps behind. According to Nazuri, Sunny was looking nervous. Good.

Earlier, when Hermione had awoken from the dream Luminaria had projected onto her, she heard her dragon for the first time, telling her of what she and Nazuri had done. Hermione was both surprised and in awe to hear her voice. Finally! And then that woman came in.

Nazuri spoke to her then, his voice tiny and small, yet firm. _She’s planned against Da. She wants him. She planned something bad against him, but he left her with the Eldest-born._ Hermione could feel the Fireball’s dislike for the woman who had done wrong against his Da.

Luminaria, too, voiced her dislike for the witch, but she also wisely reminded Hermione of her dream. Her voice was melodic, young and soft. _Do not trap yourself with restrictions that do not exist for you. You are the new Rider. What can you not do? What is out of the power of the destined Queen of Dragons?_

That was when Hermione decided to see what it was she could do. And now, as she knocked on Caine’s office, she was about to find out.

“Enter.”

Hermione strolled in. “Good morning.”

Caine looked surprised to see her and her dragons. “Good morning to you, too. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m afraid this would not be so pleasurable,” said Hermione. “Remove Miss Birch from the roster of the Crèche.”

Caine looked behind her and Hermione felt the other dragon keepers come in and shut the door. Caine regarded her again. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I am asking you nicely.”

“This is you asking nicely?”

“Yes.”

Caine leaned back from his seat. “And what is you not asking nicely?”

Nazuri jumped down from her shoulder and onto his table. Luminaria, too, leapt from her arms and both dragons eyed Caine and growled.

“They follow your bidding,” said Caine, looking up at Hermione, pleasantly surprised and trying to hide his intimidation.

“No, not exactly,” said Hermione.

From the side of the building, the Ridgeback’s head filled the entirety of the glass wall. When he roared, the glass and the room shook. At that, Caine’s façade broke as he stood up and tried to run away from the angry dragon.

Hermione turned to see everyone cowering and flinching behind her. “Leave us,” she commanded.

They did not wait to be told twice.

She turned to Reinmar. “You, too, my friend,” she said gently.

The Ridgeback nodded and flew away.

Now that they were alone, Hermione sat down in the chair in front of Caine’s table. Slowly, the director found his way back to his seat with shaking legs. Hermione pretended not to notice and, with a wave of her wand, silenced the room. “As you know, the dragons have formed a bond between me and Charlie.”

“Yes,” said Caine, looking cautious.

“Last night, Sunny laid advances on Charlie that the dragons did not like.”

Caine raised an eyebrow. “The dragons, or you?”

From his table, Nazuri and Luminaria roared.

“The dragons,” said Hermione flatly. She was not going to analyse her feelings in front of Caine. “They do not trust her.”

“I was told,” said Caine, “that you were curt with Birch since she had moved to the Crèche. Why?”

“I do not trust her either.”

“Why?”

“Instinct.”

“She’s a cheerful person, bubbly, a good worker. Has she done anything that would cause you to distrust her?”

“She has crossed a line with one of your employees and you do not think it inappropriate or reason enough for me to distrust her?”

“Charlie is a grown man. He can handle himself against a floozy –”

“That is beyond the point!” Hermione took a deep breath. It would not do well for her to lose her temper now because she was being emotional. “The dragons are attached to him and I am telling you they are more than willing to defend him, whether or not you think he can handle himself. The newborns do what they want and they cannot be controlled. Their bursts of fire may not be threatening to you in their young age, but you do not know everything about Luminaria.”

“And you do, all of a sudden, Granger?”

“Yes.”

“Have you found something in your research that Arkady has failed to share with me, then?”

“No. It’s more of a… recent discovery.”

Caine cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. So Hermione told him about dragon and Rider and the dream, leaving out only the prophecy that was brought to her recollection by Eimhir. She also told him what the dragons told her earlier and the fact that Luminaria could make the dragons do what she asked. By the time she was finished, Caine had a wild look of disbelief on his face.

Luminaria looked at Hermione and said something in a few short squawks.

Hermione smirked. “Luminaria said you are remembering the time all the dragons came to the Crèche to bow to the both of us.”

Caine looked even more baffled, which told Hermione that her dragon had spoken the truth. He swallowed spit and licked his lips. “All right, then. Let’s say it’s all true,” he said. “What does that mean?”

“A great many things,” said Hermione. “The dragons here will prosper and be in good health. And Lumi and I need to bond with each other, which means she stays with me.”

Caine slowly shook his head. “I cannot allow that. You know that it is for their own safety that they are put in the Crèche.”

Hermione smiled a little. “Then mark my words, you will witness more of this little dragon sneaking out of the establishment.”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t.”

Hermione highly doubted they could stop her, but did not mention it any more. Caine would learn and she would not need to force his hand for him to do so.

“If I transfer Birch back to the Ironbelly, will she be safe?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

Hermione looked at Luminaria. “She will be safe, right?”

The little dragon begrudgingly agreed, but Nazuri growled and roared. His demands were fair, so Hermione told Caine.

“Nazuri says if she does anything to violate trust again, in whatever manner, he would personally see to it she gets eaten.”

Caine’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, but wisely did not speak against it. “I will speak with her. What of Lombardi?”

Luminaria squawked once and blew out smoke sharply from her nostrils.

“He’s all right,” said Hermione. “The newborns tolerate him because Charlie and I ask. But if I may make a suggestion?”

Caine gestured for her to go ahead.

“Bring any of the Waters’ brothers in. They visit the Crèche so much, the newborns know them.”

“Will they behave?”

Hermione looked at the two and back at Caine. “I’ll ask them nicely.”

Caine chuckled despite himself. “Granger, I like you.”

“So you’ve told me, sir.”

“Oh, it’s back to ‘sir’ now, is it?” Caine huffed with amusement and ran a hand down his bearded face. “Fine. I’ll get Charlie’s story and then Birch’s. And as of today, she will be moved back to the Ironbelly in the north following suspension.”

Hermione nodded and stood. Nazuri went to her and she perched him back on her shoulder, but Luminaria kept her gaze on the director. Slowly, the newborn approached him.

Caine raised an eyebrow and glanced at Hermione in trepidation.

Luminaria looked down at his desk and then at Hermione, communicating what she could sense.

“There is a curse in one of your letters,” Hermione relayed to him. “Lumi can sense it.”

The dragon moved closer to Hermione but did not leave the table as Caine opened his drawer and levitated all the letters to his desk. Lumi looked at them.

“The brown envelope,” said Hermione.

Caine levitated it and placed it in a jar. When he flicked his wand so the envelope opened, a dark purple potion spurted out with purple bubbles and dark grey smoke.

“How did that get to your drawer, sir?” asked Hermione. “Aren’t all letters screened and tested?”

Caine had a deep thoughtful frown on his face. “Yes, they are.” He looked at Luminaria and thanked the dragon.

Luminaria climbed up Hermione’s arms once more and Hermione carried them out.

The team looked at her in attention the moment she exited the office.

“Is everything okay?” asked Avienne.

“Is Caine still alive?” asked Michan.

“Unfortunately for you, yes, I am,” said Caine behind Hermione. “Weasley, inside, now. Birch, you’re next.”

Hermione said nothing and went downstairs to have breakfast with her dragons.

***

“According to Granger, something happened last night,” said Caine and Charlie knitted his brows in confusion. “She said the _dragons_ told her that Birch made a move against you and they did not like it. The Fireball said he’ll have her eaten if she tries anything again. Now, I want to know, what the hell happened?”

Charlie’s mind was reeling. The dragons knew? _Hermione_ knew? And since when could she talk to them? What the –

“Weasley!”

“We went on the other side of the mountain, sir. Birch wanted us to have a few drinks. She kept buying them and she was coming on to me, but I refused her. I left with Thell before anything else could happen.”

Caine cursed. “That’s exactly what the Fireball said.”

“I’m sorry, they can talk?”

“Granger seems to understand them.”

“Since when?”

“Since today!”

Charlie ran his hand down his face. “So now what?”

Caine sighed. “I’m transferring Birch back to the Ironbelly following suspension. Lombardi will be reassigned to the Opaleye. The other dragon reluctantly agrees to her safety, which is highly doubtful to me, but then again, a fucking Ridgeback was outside my office!” Caine huffed heavily. “This dragon is only a month old and she is already so powerful. Tell me, Weasley, do you think Granger can truly handle her?”

Charlie did not hesitate. “Hermione can handle anything, sir.”

Caine nodded. “Fine. And you and Granger, is there anything –” he gestured and Charlie could tell he was uncomfortable with the question.

“No, sir.” He knew it was the truth, but Charlie could not help but think it sucked.

“Fine. Tell Birch and Lombardi to come in. And get the rest of those idiots out of my floor!”

Charlie nodded and exited the office. He told Sunny and Nicky to go in and left, bringing Michan and Memphis with him since Avienne had already gone to Hermione.

“What did he want?” asked Memphis.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Charlie. “I think what’s important is we have another meeting.”

“Why?”

Charlie looked around him to ensure they were not being listened to. “Because Hermione can talk to dragons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go. I hope you guys liked it :)


	28. The Imprint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, everyone, for being so invested in this story. I appreciate it a lot and love reading everyone's comments and support.
> 
> I'm uploading early as I will be leaving tonight. Next upload will be next week.
> 
> This is a big chapter. Let's go!

Charlie waited down the hall from the locker room of Puddlemere United nervously. He had practiced and ran over in his mind many times what he would say to Oliver when he saw him. He needed the Scot to know. He needed to be honest with his friend. But damn it, this was scaring him more than a Ridgeback!

Fans started to scream, so the team must be coming out. He looked over and sure enough, the hulking figure of Keon Donovan was leading the pack. The team made their way through, signing things, being photographed and screamed at, the whole shebang, but Oliver was not with them. When the fans had dispersed, Oliver came out of the locker room with Logan and Damian by his side. They were all happy because of their victory over the Pride of Portree and Charlie disappointingly thought to himself that he was about to ruin that. Maybe he should talk to the Scot some other ti –

“Charlie?”

 _Damn it._ Charlie smiled at his former protégée. “Hey, Oli, Dame, Logue. Congratulations, lads!”

Logan and Damian shook hands with him and slapped his shoulder.

“Were you watching the game?” Damian asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” said Charlie. “I came for Oliver, actually.”

The Scot’s smile turned into a nervous frown. “Is there a problem?”

“No, nothing like that. Everything’s fine. I just wondered if I could talk to you?” He glanced at the two others. “Privately?”

Logan and Damian clapped Oliver and Charlie in the back and left them alone.

“Everything a’right?” asked Oliver.

“Well, that depends.” Charlie was getting uncomfortable. He looked around; they could easily be overheard here. And if Oliver were to punch him for the things he would say, he would rather it was somewhere no one could see them and report it all over the newspapers. “Do you think you can spare some time for a drink?”

“Yeah, af course. The guys are going tae an after party. Dae ye wanna –”

Charlie shook his head. “I was thinking somewhere we wouldn’t be overheard or interrupted.”

Oliver got the feeling that Charlie came in for some serious business. “A’right. We go tae a pub, then?”

The redhead nodded. “Sure.”

Oliver clapped him on the back, seemingly trying to ease Charlie’s nervousness and Charlie dreaded the talk even more. Oliver was being so nice! And Charlie was about to ruin everything.

The Gold Griffin was an establishment popular to the muggles as it was to wizards. A Gryffindor whose brother was a squib opened the pub in 1808 and it still stood, serving the best food and drink to all, and magical-made drinks to those who knew what to ask. Oliver and Charlie took a corner booth after ordering their drinks. They made small talk but all the while Charlie could not help the apprehension and anxiety that was radiating off of him in waves. And after that incident with Sunny, Charlie was hesitant to drink, which was very much unlike him and he was sure Oliver could sense it.

Finally, the Scot turned to him. “What’s going on, Charlie?”

Charlie took a big breath and then expelled it. “I’ve actually been thinking of ways to tell you, but now, I can’t remember any of it.” He laughed nervously.

“Then just spit it oot.” Oliver clapped him on the shoulder again. “C’mon, it’s mae, mate. What cannae ye talk tae mae aboot?”

Charlie ran a hand over his hair and, with one more sigh, said what he came to say. “I’m falling in love with Hermione.”

Oliver did not move.

Charlie looked at him worriedly. “I’m sorry, Oliver. It’s not something I planned. It’s not something I wanted to happen. She’s my brother’s ex-girlfriend, for Godric’s sake. And you’re my mate. I have a lot of respect for you, I do. But I can’t help what I feel.” Charlie ran a hand down his face. “I tried stopping it. I tried burying it, avoiding it, changing it, but…” He shook his head. “I’m falling for her.”

Oliver calmly nodded his head. “Since when?”

“Does it matter?”

The Scot shrugged a shoulder. “Just curious.”

Charlie wanted to lie so he would not seem as much of a dick as he felt, but lying would make him a dick anyway, so truth it was. “I can’t pinpoint when. I tried thinking if it was when Nazuri hatched, or when we went shopping together, or when she jumped into a gushing waterfall to save the egg, or when I first heard her sing…” He tapped his finger on his glass, lost in the memories of it all. “I can’t tell. Maybe during one of them. Maybe somewhere in between all of them.”

“She isnae difficult tae love,” said Oliver, being the understanding man that he was, and drunk his butterbeer.

“No, she isn’t,” said Charlie and looked at the Scot. “Mate…”

“Stop apologizing,” said Oliver and regarded him. “A’ve been expecting it, tae be honest.”

Now, Charlie was surprised. “How? I didn’t.”

Oliver chuckled. “Ye dinnae ken wha’ a ken.”

“English, you bastard.”

Oliver chuckled again. “Ye don’t knoo what a knoo.”

“And what is that?”

The Scot was silent for a bit and simply stared at his drink, gathering his thoughts. Charlie let him alone and drank. Then Oliver seemed to come to a decision. He finished his drink in one go and looked at Charlie. “Come with mae.”

Charlie followed. They went to the alley behind a closed bookstore and made sure they were not seen. Oliver pulled out a rope wrapped in a keychain and muttered, “ _Portus._ ” It glowed bright blue and Charlie held on just as it took them away from there and onto the Wood Estate.

Oliver led the way once more and brought them through the front door, down a hallway, around the corner and in front of heavy oak double doors. Swirling clouds and thunderous seas were engraved on the beautiful doors and armed Vikings on warships that had enormous dragonheads rode the gigantic waves. Charlie could not explain it, but he could sense this room was different from any other. Magic was thrumming in the air.

“Ma told mae tha’ yer team had been doing research here,” said Oliver. “She spoke to Hermione herself, she said.”

Charlie nodded.

“Ye knoo what Hermione is, dinnae ye, Charlie?”

The redhead swallowed spit. “She’s the new Rider.” He could see the changes in Hermione in the past week, the confidence that oozed out of her. He could see her acceptance of it.

“Aye, she is.” Oliver looked him in the eyes as though trying to read him and Charlie steeled himself, preparing for whatever lay ahead. Oliver opened the doors.

The room, like every other one in the manor, was huge. Charlie and Oliver walked through busts of Viking warriors both men and women and looked at the weapons that lined one of the walls. There were shelves on the far left wall filled with ancient scrolls and tomes piled up high from the floor. Portraits covered the majority of the walls. They depicted battles and what seemed to be kings and queens on ancient altars.

“Here,” called Oliver and Charlie went to him. The two portraits before him were nearly floor to ceiling; they were most definitely life-sized. On one portrait was a Viking with antlers on his helmet and a noblewoman carrying a sword and a dagger by her hip. They stared down at Charlie and Oliver but did not say anything. On the other, another noblewoman carrying scrolls stood watching two formidable-looking Vikings, a man and a woman, sharpening their sword and spear.

“Dae ye knoo who these are?” asked Oliver.

Charlie shook his head.

Oliver pointed them out to him. “That is Solveig. She was the First Rider. That is Eirik, her Fated. Over there is Herlief. He was a King Rider. Those are his Fated, Eira and Brenna.” The Scot turned to Charlie. “The Viking’s Throne brings forth the Fated af their Riders, Charlie. And the thing is many believe that the Rider is the dragon in human form. If Luminaria is powerful noo, she will be mair powerful when she groos intae maturity. Which means, Hermione will only groo mair powerful as well.

“Hermione is already a powerful witch, but she cannae handle the power af the dragon and the way Lumi affects and will continue tae affect her on her ain. There must be _someone_ there tae centre her magic and stable her. Tae help disperse the power.”

“The more powerful the dragon, the more powerful the witch.”

“Aye, exactly.”

Charlie’s mind was reeling and memories flooded his mind, one after another, of the times Hermione caused all of their dragons to feel her pain from a _different country_. He thought of her being able to call a Ridgeback that was supposed to be secure in his territory. He remembered how powerful Hermione’s spell casting was even if they were non-verbal. She was already channelling Lumi’s power through their bond, and Lumi was barely a month old. Then it clicked as he looked at the portraits before him and he turned to Oliver with wide eyes. “She will be Fated to _two_.”

Oliver nodded his head. “Ye respond tae the dragons the way she dos. Ye have the same abilities. It was fated tae happen.”

Charlie could not get over the shock. “And you?”

“Mae? When Adherion responded tae mae, a didnae even realize, but ye and Hermione did the night af Avienne’s party, didnae ye?”

The redhead nodded.

“Everything clicked fer mae the day Lumi hatched. Nazuri responded tae mae as well as Lumi. A knew it would only take time before all this comes tae light. But…” He smiled sadly. “Charlie, the lass suffers from insecurity and a thought, when that Fated mark comes, a dinnae want her tae think tha’ what a feel aboot her was just a result af her name on ma skin because magic made it so. A want her tae knoo hoo a feel before tha’ happens, so tha’ when it dos, she wouldnae doubt mae. D’ye knoo what a mean?”

Charlie nodded and smiled a little. That was a good plan on Oliver’s part.

“A hope ye dinnae mind.” Oliver smiled shyly. “A mean, am at a disadvantage. Ye work with her.”

This time, Charlie laughed. “I’m not sure if that’s a disadvantage altogether, mate.”

“Ye knoo what a mean. Ye spend most af yer time tagether and a get a few days in because a have a game oot af toon. A had tae get a head start noo, right?”

Charlie clapped him on the shoulder, absolutely amused, but then sobered up at the realization of the situation. “Hermione would freak out.”

Oliver nodded solemnly. “We’ll just have tae support her through it.”

Charlie sighed and regarded the younger man. “So you don’t mind if I talk to her?”

“Naw. A think ye should. If Hermione ever realizes her feelings fer ye, it’ll freak her oot. And we both knoo the first thing she’d think is she’s being unfaithful tae mae.”

“Shit.” Charlie realized he was right, but then… “Wait, what do you mean if Hermione ever realizes her feelings for me?”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “That she fancies ye, mate.”

Surprise showed in Charlie’s face that it actually made Oliver laugh. “She what?”

“Dinnae tell mae ye dinnae ken! Charlie!”

“I dinnae ken what? I don’t – fuck, she likes me?” He recalled Hermione’s reaction to Sunny and only then did it click. “Fuck, _she likes me_!”

Oliver had one hand on his knee and another on his stomach, he was laughing so hard. In front of them, the Riders and their Fated were laughing, too.

“Ye big bloody numptie! Aye, mate, she fancies ye! Half her letters tae mae since Christmas involved ye and yer dragons. Yer co-parenting two af them, fer Godric’s sake! Eejit!”

Happiness felt like a balloon growing and growing inside Charlie’s chest. Hermione liked him! It was Christmas all over again, but better! “Holy shite…”

The Scot patted his shoulder and stirred him out of the room. “Talk tae her, mate. Tell her hoo ye feel. Be honest aboot all af it, so that when the time dos come, she’ll knoo it wasnae magic that made ye feel that way.”

Nerves ate away at Charlie at the thought of telling Hermione and doubt danced at the edges of his thoughts. “Are we sure this will happen, though?”

“As certain as yer connection tae yer dragons, Charlie. They dinnae lie.”

“And we’re – you know – we’re good?”

Oliver smiled. “We both falling fer the same woman. We both care fer her mair than anything. Aye, mate, we’re good.”

Charlie smiled. This was not how he imagined it going. Even in his wildest dreams, he could never think this possible. “So when did you know you felt something for her?”

“Ah, a couldnae tell.”

“Pshh, of course, you could. You just don’t want to tell me.”

Oliver laughed. “Naw, a couldnae –”

“Avienne’s party?”

“Naw, a knew a was gone fer her then.”

“Harry’s party?”

“Naw, a was trying nae tae flirt with her all night.”

Charlie laughed just as a patronus of an orca stopped in front of them and spoke in Thell’s voice. “Charlie, Lumi’s gone missing. We can’t find her anywhere in the Crèche.”

Charlie was about to bolt to the fireplace when another patronus landed in front of them. The fox then spoke in Avienne’s voice. “Scratch that. Hermione just patronused. Lumi went to see her again. Third time this week! Carry on.”

Oliver and Charlie burst into laughter at the antics of the young dragon and from the stairs on their right, Eleonora descended. The moment they saw the Wood matriarch, the two immediately tried to contain themselves.

“Good night, a take it?” Eleonora asked with a smile.

“Yes, ma’ am,” said Charlie while Oliver went to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Apologies for the ruckus.”

“Oh hush, it wasnae a bother,” she replied graciously. “Was that patronus aboot Luminaria?”

“Aye, she’s trouble,” said Oliver. “Apparently sneaked over tae Hermione’s… _again_.”

“Hermione told Caine they should be together for their bond to grow,” said Charlie. “Caine did not agree, so I think Hermione’s letting him learn his lesson the hard way.”

There was a twinkle in Eleonora’s eyes. “Hermione told him that?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He could still remember Hermione’s smirk during that morning briefing.

Eleonora smiled at him and came closer before taking his face in both her hands. “Ye understand it noo, dinnae ye?”

The redhead glanced at Oliver and back to the elder witch. “Understand what, ma’am?”

“Fate.” Eleonora regarded him carefully. “Yer a good man, Charles Weasley. A understand it wasnae easy, but a dae tell ye, if ye pursue her, things will turn oot as ye hoped.” She patted his cheek gently. “Sooner than ye think, it’ll happen.”

Charlie blinked a few times. She was a Seer.

“Aye, and mair,” said Eleonora.

 _A Legilimens!_ Charlie’s eyes went wide and Eleonora giggled.

“If ye need ma help or any advice at all, yer mair than welcome here,” said Eleonora. She kissed Oliver goodnight and made her way up the stairs. “Tell Hermione that as well. Try nae tae let her freak oot anymair.” She chuckled.

Sky blue eyes met bottle green and shock met amusement.

“Well, she trusted ye with a family secret,” said Oliver. “I guess that means we _are_ right.”

Charlie was still reeling.

***

For the third time that week, Hermione woke up with Luminaria’s voice calling out to her. Now that they could communicate and Hermione could finally hear her voice, Luminaria’s want and need to be in her presence had increased seemingly ten-fold. She had snuck out of the Crèche at night and every morning, she did not want to part with Hermione and kept clinging around her neck or her arms. Once, Luminaria snuck into her messenger bag and Hermione had to go back to the Crèche to give her back to a panicking Donatello Waters.

Tonight, Hermione patronused Avienne and told her she was not bringing Luminaria back but allowing her to spend the night. They could deal with Caine in the morning. It brought happiness to the little dragon and she curled up beside Hermione in bed and immediately fell asleep.

Hermione was sure this was a dream. She was by a lake with mountains and tall trees all around covered in frost, though she felt no coldness. Across the lake from her was a towering cliff and from the top of that cliff, she saw a great black dragon, hulking in size and mass. The dragon leapt off the cliff and mid-flight opened massive his wings. Two pairs unfurled and the dragon glided gracefully over the lake and landed with a thud meters away from Hermione. He was painted, Hermione realized, with blue war paint across his eyes and on the sides of his face. When he bowed his head, the Viking that rode him leapt off.

Hermione lowered herself in a curtsy but kept her eyes on the Viking. She knew him from the carved image of him in the fountain. “Herlief,” she said.

The Viking king was just as formidable walking towards her as his image was, with his full beard and braided hair that was light brown in colour. But his eyes were the same familiar shade of bottle green that Hermione had seen in Oliver. Herlief slapped his fist to his leather armour-coated chest and bent a knee before Hermione, bowing his head as he did so. “Hermione Jean Granger,” he said in his gruff, gravelly voice. “The new Rider.”

Hermione inclined her head even as she nervously swallowed. How small must she look next to this man, she wondered.

“A heard ye were like mae,” said Herlief, standing up.

“In what way?” asked Hermione, trying not to be intimidated. Though, curiously, she did not feel afraid.

Herlief pointed up the cliff where two more mighty dragons, the breeds of which Hermione had never seen before, stood. One was a magnificent white dragon that could have been an Antipodean Opaleye if it was not for the fact that it had four wings. The other was a blue dragon with gold and red tipped scales that shimmered in the sunlight. On their backs, Hermione was sure, were his Fated, though from this great distance, she could not see them.

“A am Fated tae two women whose fierceness, strength, wisdom, kindness and compassion remain unmatched fer centuries. Ma Eira is ma compass in the midst af confusion and ma light in darkness. And ma Brenna is the justice and morality a needed in the midst af war. Tagether, they help balance the power within mae brought forth by the Timeless.” He looked down at her and Hermione saw gentleness in his eyes that she never expected from such a mammoth of a man. “Ye will need both in yer Fated, tae.”

Turning from her, Herlief walked towards his dragon and Hermione followed him. Sensing them, the great beast tore his eyes from the cliff and stared at Hermione. He inclined his head respectively, allowing his scales to transition to indigo dipped in yellow-orange.

 _Rider_.

Hermione bowed her head as well, but paused. “I don’t know your name.”

“Brynjar,” said Herlief. “His name is Brynjar.”

“Pleased to meet you, Brynjar.”

Herlief patted the great dragon on the neck in a way that Hermione was sure, if done to her, would at least crack a rib.

In her head, Brynjar’s chuckle sounded.

“He can handle it,” said Herlief with amusement. When Hermione looked surprised, he added, “He can read yer thoughts and a can hear it as he dos. When ye are truly wan with yer dragon, Hermione, ye can hear what he hears, see what he sees, feel what he feels and it wouldnae cause ye an ounce af magic. Ye will be truly _wan_.” He turned to his dragon proudly. “A am him in flesh and he is mae in fire.” He looked back at Hermione. “D’ye understand?”

Hermione nodded. “How did you and Brynjar meet?”

“A foond him as an egg, as ye did.” Herlief walked with Hermione to the edge of the lake and pointed to the middle. “He called mae frae there. A dove and so did ma brothers. None af them could move him, but a single touch frae mae and he was free.” He looked at Hermione like a father regarding his child. “A took care af him, as ye did. A watched over him day and night, as ye did. When he hatched and a saw him fer the first time, he captured ma heart, like yers did ye.”

Hermione smiled softly. “Her name is Luminaria.”

“Beautiful name.”

Her smile grew wider. “She gets into a lot of trouble.”

Herlief bent down so he was looking directly into her eyes. “If ye are truly wan with yer dragon, where d’ye think she gets tha’ from?”

Hermione could not help it; she tilted her head back in laughter and Herlief and Brynjar joined her. “You sound like Charlie, you know? He always says that.”

“And who is Charlie?”

Hermione sighed. Was she really about to discuss her love life with a Viking?

“And why shouldnae ye?” asked Herlief, picking up a rock and throwing it into the lake. It bounced an impressive twenty-four times before sinking that Hermione could not help but applaud him. “Thank ye… D’ye knoo why am here, Hermione?”

“To mentor me?”

“Aye. But why mae and nae ma Queens?”

Hermione had no answer.

“Because should ye choose, ye will be Fated tae men.”

Hermione’s brow came together. “Should I choose?”

“Aye. Because ye shall only be Fated if, and only if, ye agree and decide.”

The words of Andromeda came to mind. “But if I don’t, then I’ll live the rest of my life knowing something went wrong.”

Herlief nodded.

“It seems unfair, don’t you think?”

Herlief’s smile was fatherly. “Tell mae, Hermione, can ye walk away frae Charlie right noo, denying whatever ye feel fer him fer the rest af yer life?”

That question made Hermione swallow spit. “But that’s not fair on him. Herlief, he doesn’t feel that way about me. And it’s complicated. I went out with his brother and there was this whole thing with the cheating and it was – it was just horrible.” She looked out over the lake and crossed her arms around her torso as though trying to hold herself together. She knew she should not get emotional, but Hermione did not think she could handle it if _Charlie_ rejected her. “It’s too complicated. Our lives are too messily intertwined.”

“Ye still didnae answer ma question, lass. Could ye walk away frae him?”

Hermione bowed her head and did not answer, and that in itself was one. “How… how did you know you were Fated to them? What kind of Fated are you? If it’s okay to ask.”

“Aye, it’s a’right.” Herlief pulled up his leather armour and showed Hermione his right rib cage where a beautiful blue and gold quill shone brightly behind the name _Eira_ written in rose-patterned red ink. After, he showed her his left arm where a sword with a jewelled hilt was tattooed in silver. The name _Brenna_ was before it in rose-patterned red ink. “We were Fated after Brynjar came intae ma life. He was only six months when he breathed fire ontae mae.” He picked up a few rocks and skipped them one by one over the water again. “Ye see, the mair powerful Brynjar became, the mair powerful a became. Hooever powerful a was before a met him, it continued to groo the mair we bonded and the older he got. A couldnae handle it on ma ain, so Brynjar brought forth ma Fated tae help mae cope. With power dispersed between the three af us, the faster Brynjar grew and matured.

“Noo, Eira used tae be ma father’s Seer. She sat with us during battle strategies and a got tae knoo her there. There was something in mae that liked her, adored her, but a didnae pursue it.”

“Why not?”

“She has always been a brainy, bonnie lass and a was a savage,” he laughed. “She was always well-put tagether. Look at mae.” He held his arms wide. “A barely ooned clothes with naw holes, naw blood and naw burns. And she’s younger than mae eight years.”

Hermione smiled a bit. “Charlie’s older than me seven years.”

Herlief smiled, too. “A fell in love with her nonetheless. Even mair miraculous, she fell in love with mae, tae. Then a went tae war and a met Brenna. Fiercest warrior a’ve ever seen.” He looked up at their dragons in the sky. “She fought with two swords, quick as a fox and as cunning as wan, tae. And a knew deep doon, there was something there, tae.” He picked up another set of rocks and skipped them on the lake. “Fer a month, we got tae knoo each other in the battlefield. All the while, a never forgot ma Eira waiting fer mae. A knew a had tae make ma choice. They could feel it, tae, and a knoo they felt the same fer mae. Soo a talked tae them. Half prepared fer Brenna tae strike mae doon. But instead, we committed tae each other and made that decision. The next day, Brynjar blew his fire on mae and a’ve been marked ever since.”

Just like Andromeda said. _Meet, know each other, decide._ But how would she decide, Hermione wondered. She liked Oliver; that much was clear. But Charlie? Could she really look at Molly and say she was into another one of her sons but this time, she was sharing her affection with yet another person? Dear Merlin, when Molly thought Hermione was rumoured to like both Harry and Victor, the matriarch gave her the cold shoulder for weeks. What more now? _Another_ of her sons? Another? Hermione sighed, defeated. No… It was too complicated.

Beside her, Herlief sighed as well and looked up at the sky where two dragons were circling each other and diving in and around each other in play. “D’ye ken that whoever ye are Fated with get a dragon af their ain?”

Hermione nodded. “Oliver told me about it when he told me the story of Solveig. He said her dragon breathed fire onto another dragon, who then bonded and connected with Eirik.”

“He is right, this Oliver. But did ye ken that whoever becomes the dragons af yer Fated will also be the lifelong mates af yer dragon?”

That she did not know. “But… I thought in order to produce an egg of its own breed, the dragon must –”

Herlief was already shaking his head before she even finished. “Nae in the case af the Timeless, lass. The ancients called them the Timeless nae only because af the strength af their magic, but because they are _reborn_ time and time again. Just as a phoenix is engulfed in flames and rises frae the ashes, the Timeless, tae, is engulfed in flames and becomes an egg again frae the ashes, waiting fer the next mortal tae set them free.”

Hermione had her mouth agape in wonder and she turned to Brynjar in awe.

“When Brynjar was still a wean looking fer his mates, he foond Thyra, a Dragon af Thunder.” Herlief pointed to the white dragon up above. “Thyra was wan af the last two af her kind and the male Dragon af Thunder wanted her fer a mate. Brynjar imprinted on Thyra and chose her. She chose him back, but the male af her species wouldnae back doon. Brynjar fought him and set him on fire tae ensure his mate remains his oon and naw other.” Herlief turned to Hermione, whose eyes were wide as saucers. “A dragon will fight fer their mate with fire. Hae ye felt anything like that? Because when Brenna was almost taken frae mae, a have. She was Fated tae be mine frae the moment the Timeless and a bonded, just as a was hers if we chose tae be.” He looked up again at the dragons playing in the skies. “And a chose tae be hers because seeing her with another was mair than painful. She was _mine_ , she was _fer mae_. And a was hers, made fer her, built fer her.”

Hermione lowered her head and felt Herlief’s hand on her shoulder. She met his bottle green eyes that reminded her of Oliver so much, it hurt.

“The choice will always be yers, Hermione. Just be sure tae choose right.”

Hermione opened her eyes and found herself staring at the ceiling of her cottage. She looked to her side and saw Luminaria still asleep, her fins glowing. Closing her eyes, Hermione tried to see if she could look into what her dragon was dreaming in her sleep.

Luminaria was in the skies, flying with a great white dragon whose face was painted with blue war paint and a blue dragon. The white dragon was blinding in her brilliance and she shone and twinkled as though she was made of stars and jewels. The other dragon was blue as lapis lazuli with each scale beautifully tipped in red and gold. What was more, the fins on her back all the way down to her tail criss-crossed like a wonderful braid in brilliant gold. She was magnificent and Hermione did not think she had seen a more beautiful dragon. The three of them were tumbling in the sky, circling and intertwining with each other.

Blinking her eyes open, Hermione smiled. Her little dragon was with Eira and Brenna’s dragons over the lake.

Carefully getting out of bed, Hermione readied for the day with the things Herlief said still whirling around in her mind. She wondered if she could go through with it. At the moment, her thoughts were of guilt because she should be focusing her attention on Oliver, whom she had kissed and committed to get to know better. A small, dark part of her brain was disgusted that she was in this position, given that Ron had cheated on her and she felt as if she was being unfaithful to Oliver by having feelings for Charlie, because _that_ was happening. She did have feelings for Charlie. And, she reflected, with everything they had gone through, how could she not?

This week, after the whole Sunny debacle, Charlie was back to his old self around her. He was no longer pulling back; he was wrapping his arms around her again and he was being his usual sweet, mentoring self, and Hermione was lapping up all of it. She and their dragons were the centre of Charlie’s attention and she loved it. Then she would come home and get a letter from Oliver and she would feel as though she was being untruthful.

Hermione sighed and a thought entered her mind. Quickly pulling her D.A. galleon, she sent a message and waited for a reply. A moment later, she felt it heat up. When she read the message, she smiled. Good thing it was a Saturday.

Going to her closet, Hermione decided to go with a simple white button-down shirt and a high-waisted white skirt with floral patterns and beige heels. Her hair she brushed until it was shiny and put up in a ponytail. She applied minimal make-up and a light rose-pink lipstick.

From the bed, Luminaria stretched and unfurled her wings.

“Good morning, sweetie,” said Hermione.

The little dragon blinked at her several times before Hermione sensed her approval of her outfit. _Are you going?_

“Yes, I am. I’m meeting a friend.” She sat down on the bed and ran her fingers through Luminaria’s spine.

_Am I going with you, Mia?_

Hermione smiled. “Since when do you call me Mia?”

She felt Luminaria grow shy. _Dada did._

“Dada doesn’t call me that all the time.”

 _Yesterday, he did._ Luminaria projected her memory onto Hermione when Charlie pulled her from Nazuri’s furnace and spun her around, saying, _“Dance with me, Mia.”_

Hermione felt herself blush. “Fine, he calls me that _sometimes._ And no, sweetie, you can’t come with me. I have to go alone.”

_Oh. Is it because I called you Mia?_

Hermione laughed. “No, sweetie.”

 _Then why can’t I go with you?_ The little dragon let out a small whine.

“Because we’re still hiding you from the public. You’re a rare dragon and no one has seen someone like you since Rowena Ravenclaw was alive.”

The dragon flicked her tail. When she spoke again, her voice was small. _I’ll miss you._

Hermione melted. She knew the little one was pouting. “I’ll miss you, too, but you have Michan, Raphael and Memphis with you this morning. And you’ll get to play with Nazuri.”

At the mention of Nazuri, her little head went up. _We can play?_

“Yes.”

_Will Adherion be there? I miss him._

Hermione picked her up along with her beaded bag and made her way downstairs. “Adherion will go to the Crèche next week. You’ll see him then.”

 _Too long_.

Hermione smiled. “Are you going to behave for Michan today?”

Luminaria flicked her tail lazily. _I’m hungry._

Hermione kissed her snout and opened her door. To her surprise, Charlie was outside on her porch. “Charlie?”

 _Dada!_ Luminaria tried to jump from Hermione’s arms, but she caught her.

“Lumi, what did I _just_ say about behaving?”

Luminaria sent out a short growl. _You said behave for the Second-born._

Hermione rolled her eyes and regarded Charlie, who was smiling at her. “Good morning.”

“Looks it,” said Charlie with a wink. “Good morning to you, too. Where are you headed?”

“I’m going to Pentagon Alley. I have a breakfast date.”

“With Oliver?”

“No, Seamus.”

 _Dada! I want dada!_ Luminaria was trying to reach Charlie with her little claws, so Hermione handed her over carefully. The little dragon nuzzled on his chest and Hermione smiled. Suddenly she could smell fresh laundry, pine and a hint of smoke. Inhaling once more, she could not get the smell anywhere in the air, and then it hit her. She was smelling Charlie through Lumi.

“What?” asked Charlie, looking at her with a smile on his face that reflected hers.

Hermione shook her head. “Nothing. What are you doing here? It’s our day off.”

“Oh, yeah. I was going to ask you if you wanted to have breakfast, but apparently, I’m too late.” Charlie chuckled and scratched Luminaria’s ears.

“Ah…” Hermione tried to settle the conflict in her emotions. She was adamant not to be too emotional. She knew better now after speaking with Eimhir. As it was, she was going against a few points the ancient dragon had advised her. She needed to set things straight for herself. “How about I’ll see what time Seamus and I finish and I’ll meet you for lunch?”

Charlie grinned at her. “Perfect. You want a ride to Central?”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Lumi, go back to your mummy for a bit, okay?” Charlie kissed the little dragon and she nuzzled her head on his beard, making him and Hermione laugh. Charlie then summoned his broom from his cottage and he, Hermione and Lumi flew over to Central.

With one last reminder to Luminaria to “Be good today please”, Hermione disappeared through the floo and emerged in the Leaky Cauldron. She sifted the soot from her clothes and, once she was content, went to the back to enter Diagon Alley.

A few moments later, a familiar voice called Hermione’s name and before she knew it, Pansy was next to her with a proud smirk on her lips.

“Uh-oh, what have you done?” asked Hermione.

“Sent Ron something special,” the Slytherin replied.

Hermione laughed. “Should I even ask?”

“No, I think it would be better if you don’t.” Pansy wrapped her arm around Hermione’s and for the rest of the walk to Pentagon Alley, they talked about their Christmas and New Year’s and how the year was shaping up so far.

By the time they arrived at the Moonlit Café, the Irishman was already there, seated at a corner table with a cup of breve coffee for Pansy and ristretto for Hermione. “Good morning, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve ordered you both coffee already.”

“You’re a damn good friend, Pyro,” said Pansy, kissing his cheek before sitting down and taking a sip of her coffee. “Oh, heaven!”

Hermione chuckled at her and kissed Seamus on the cheek, too. “Good morning!” Just as she took her seat, a waitress came to their table and they ordered before settling down.

“So, what’s this about?” asked Seamus.

“I don’t know, she just dragged me along,” said Pansy.

“Well, I’m glad to bump into you, actually,” said Hermione. “Now, I can have two different opinions.”

“Ooh, colour me intrigued,” said Pansy. Even Seamus leant in closer the moment he felt Hermione cast a Silencing Charm around them.

“I am curious about something that you told me,” said Hermione, nodding at Seamus, “and because I don’t know much about the subject, I thought I’d ask you.”

“And what is the subject exactly?” asked Pansy.

Hermione took a deep breath. “Triads.”

The reaction was immediate. Pansy sat upright as if electricity passed through her spine and Seamus’ eyebrows disappeared behind the hair on his forehead.

“Who is in a triad?” asked Pansy. “Are you thinking of going into one?”

“No, I’m… asking for a friend.”

Pansy was not convinced, but pursed her lips and seemed deep in thought for a while. Meanwhile, Seamus cleared his throat and sipped his coffee.

“Well, according to me mam,” he said, “entering into a triad relationship was not something people did for fun. It was always regarded as something serious.”

“That’s because it is,” said Pansy. Hermione was not used to seeing her discussing something sombrely, but there was no smile or twinkle in the Slytherin’s face. “Entering into a triad, if successful, will boost status and respect for the ones involved, but fail, and the humiliation will not be easily forgotten.” She drank a sip of her coffee. “In high society, among Purebloods and Half-Blood elitists, it is a status enhancer. You can satisfy two lovers, you’re desirable and whatever egotistical claim one can take from it.”

“Why isn’t every Pureblood getting into one, then?” asked Seamus.

“Because in most cases, Pureblood marriages are arranged. It isn’t a marriage based on love but power and the sustainability of the Pureblood status.” She smirked. “In most Pureblood marriages, the husband and wife can barely stand to be in the same room as each other. Imagine being stuck with two people you do not want around because of a triad arrange marriage. It would be even more of a disaster. And as I said, the failure of it is catastrophic. High society suicide.”

“How is that any different from cheating, though?” asked Hermione.

Pansy looked absolutely offended that she would even compare the two. “Because there is no commitment in cheating, Golden Girl. There is no love, no consent. Cheating is cheating and it is cowardly and abhorrent!”

Hermione put her hands up. “Okay, okay, calm down, Pansy, damn.”

“Half-bloods know it happens, but it is quite rare,” said Seamus. “Muggleborns think it’s highly unusual, of course.”

Pansy shook her head and rolled her eyes. “And of course, people like my parents or Draco’s, bigoted bastards, hold it over their heads as ‘ignorance’.”

Hermione quietly sipped her coffee, mulling it around. “Do you know anyone who was in one?”

“Fred and George’s uncles,” said Seamus. “Gideon and Fabian Prewett. They were quite famous because of it. They were in love with a woman called Dorcas Meadowes.”

A waitress brought their orders of a full English breakfast for Seamus, eggs benedict with mushrooms for Hermione and omelette with vegetables and cheese for Pansy. They ate for a while then Seamus put another Silencing Charm around them.

“If I’m not mistaken,” he said, “Fred and George themselves almost got into a triad.”

That Hermione did not know, but apparently, Pansy did, because she sniggered at her plate.

“They _were_ in one with Angelina Johnson,” said the Slytherin, “but they kept it quiet since they were not sure it was going to work. Smart on their part since obviously, it didn’t work.”

Hermione’s head was buzzing from all they have said. The memories of Herlief’s words still echoed inside her mind and she thrummed with magic from her very core.

Luminaria was powerful, of that she had no doubt. Only a month old now and she was intelligent enough to outsmart three dragon keepers and make older dragons than herself do her bidding. And now that she and Hermione were bonding more than before, spending time together more than before, she was only bound to grow stronger. Hermione would need someone to help her settle her magic. She was not blind to the fact that she could easily utter non-verbal spells now as if she had been doing it her whole life, but the fact of the matter was that Luminaria’s bond was helping her magical core grow stronger. What would happen if Luminaria’s power overrode her capacity to handle?

When plugged into sockets that exceeded its voltage, electrical appliances would explode. Would that be the same as magical cores? Would Hermione simply be a permanent fixture in St. Mungo’s?

Pansy’s hand waved in front of her face and Hermione looked up. “Sorry, I was somewhere else.”

“Obviously,” said Pansy and smirked. “So, does your friend have a name?”

“Yes, and it’s one you’ll not get from me. Eat your food.”

Seamus chuckled at the both of them, but left them alone. Hermione was smart and quick-witted while Pansy was snarky and a savage. This was not a battle he was stupid enough to take part in.

After her breakfast date with her friends, Hermione decided to pay the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes a visit. Fred and George were only too happy to see her and to her surprise, they were already product testing the InstaChat Notepads and InstaChat Notebooks. They were still trying to find the right balance of spells for both, though. The last time George tried to touch one, he burnt his eyebrow and broke the nearby window.

Hermione asked if she could speak with the twins about a private matter and they led her through the back and up the hidden staircase behind a curtain with a Notice-Me-Not charm on it between the staff room and the stock room. The hidden staircase led to the flat upstairs where twins were living. At the moment, George served her tea and some of Molly’s custard pie.

“So, how can we help you, sis?” asked Fred, perching on an armchair.

Hermione smiled at the nickname. She was sat on a two-seater with George, perpendicular to Fred. “It’s quite a personal question that I want to ask.”

“Ask away,” said George.

Hermione cleared her throat a bit. “Well, I want to know about… triads.”

Fred stopped mid-chew and George froze.

“From what I’ve gathered,” Hermione continued, “it’s considered a very serious thing and not a lot of people enter into it. Apparently, a lot is at stake.”

The twins nodded and Fred continued chewing.

“Relationships in the wizarding world are a sacred thing,” said George. “I mean, younger people date and whatnot, but marriage, commitment, being Fated…” He blew out air. “Those are very important. They are a bonding of souls, y’see. When you’re bonded to another person, you go all in – your heart, your magic, your soul.”

“That’s why divorce is not really an option for magical people,” said Fred. “When a person binds thier magic to someone, they’re one with that person and any separation could have a horrible, _horrible_ effect on their magic.”

Hermione nodded. “And when it comes to triads?”

The twins looked at each other.

“It’s the same thing,” said Fred. “But instead of bonding one’s self to one person, they’re binding to two.”

“We’ve only ever personally known our uncles to be in a triad,” said George. “They married the same woman and they were happy, until the war happened.”

“Bill and Charlie tried that once, remember?” said Fred and laughed.

At the mention of Charlie, Hermione’s ears turned red, but she tried to control her emotions.

“Oh yeah, Eloise Porter,” said George and nudged Hermione. “This bird from Ravenclaw once tried to seduce Bill and Charlie.”

“Almost got them, too,” said Fred. “They were seriously considering it. But when we went home for Christmas and mum found out about it, she blew her head off at the two!”

“Mum was very clear about the _implications_ of sharing a bird!”

“Merlin, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bill so horrified!”

“Bill? What about Charlie? He wanted to die!”

The twins laughed uproariously, but Hermione was growing redder with embarrassment. Morgana, she did not think of the _implications_ either! Where would they – how would they – oh, shite.

The twins settled down, wiping tears from their eyes.

“Why’d you suddenly ask anyway?” asked Fred and raised an eyebrow.

“Did you want to start that with anyone?” asked George.

Together, the twins made a fist and pounded it into their palm. All tension left Hermione and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, hush it, you two,” she said.

“Well, then, why did you ask?” asked George.

“I was just asking,” said Hermione, “because a little birdy told me you two were in one.”

Fred and George looked at each other and then Hermione and then blushed.

“Who told you?” they chorused.

Hermione shrugged innocently. “A little birdy…”

“What little birdy?”

Another shrug. “You don’t have to answer.”

Fred sighed and ruffled his hair. “Fine.”

“You are such a pushover,” said George, shaking his head in amusement.

“She’s Hermione,” said Fred, extending his hands to her as though she could be missed sitting between them. “Anyway, yeah, we tried it, sixth year. Yule ball and all.”

“With Angelina Johnson,” said Hermione.

“Uh-huh,” said George.

“And did it work?”

The twins frowned.

“It’s complicated,” said Fred.

“Most things are,” said Hermione and sighed, flopping onto the couch. Maybe this was too weird? She was beginning to get a headache.

The twins looked at each other before they each grabbed Hermione’s hands and pulled her back up.

“Who is it?” asked Fred.

“Who are they?” asked George.

Hermione frowned.

“Oliver?” guessed Fred.

“Who’s the other one?” asked George.

“Please don’t say Blaise.”

Hermione rolled her eyes again. “No, not Blaise.”

“Then?” said George.

“It’s complicated.”

“Make it uncomplicated,” said Fred.

Hermione pouted. Out of everyone she cared about, only Harry knew that Luminaria could possibly be the Viking’s Throne and only because he was there the moment all the dragons came and bowed and celebrated her and Hermione. To their other families, she had simply said Luminaria was a rare dragon that they were still researching. She had told no one of their connection and the bond that was forming.

However, according to Herlief, when he and his Queens had talked about the situation and accepted it, they became Fated. If or when the time came that Hermione, Oliver and Charlie become Fated, too, they would not be able to hide the fact from their loved ones any longer. How would they tell their family?

Hermione looked at George and then Fred. Now more than before, she had grown closer to them. She saved Fred’s life and the life debt between them bonded them together. They made Pamper Baskets for her to ensure she could relax and sleep at night when her nightmares were bad. They worried when she was in hospital and cheered her up when she got out. They supported her when she was going through the break-up with Ron. They fought with their brother to defend her honour. She made her decision. “It’ll take a while to tell.”

Fred turned to George. “You make the tea, I’ll check if Lee and Verity are okay.”

“Got it,” said George and immediately went to the kitchen.

Fred turned to Hermione. “Back in a bit and you can tell us all about it.” With a wink, he left.

“Wicked!”

“Absolute legend!”

“Guys, I’m in crisis!”

Fred and George sat on either side of her and hugged her tightly. Miraculously, it worked. Hermione felt better, but still conflicted.

“What do I do?” she asked, turning to hug Fred.

“It’s simple, isn’t it?” said George.

“Talk to Charlie,” said Fred.

Hermione groaned in dread and buried her face on Fred’s chest. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Then he’s stupid,” said Fred as if it was obvious and ran his hand on her hair to calm her. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“We think you’re wrong on this one.”

“We think Charlie likes you back,” said George.

Hermione peeked at him from Fred’s chest. “Why?”

“Charlie writes to mum a lot,” said George. “And sometimes when he can’t make it to Sunday dinner, mum tells us about his letters to let us know both of you are fine.”

“You’re literally half of every single one of Charlie’s letters,” said Fred.

“That doesn’t mean he likes me!” said Hermione. “That means he’s updating mum about me!”

The twins shook their heads at her.

“Okay, how about the fact that he went after Ronnikins?” said Fred.

“You two did that, too,” said Hermione. “Draco, Blaise and Theo are finding ways around Harry’s forbidding. And Pansy is _still_ doing that.”

Again the twins shook their heads.

“No, sis, you don’t understand,” said George. “Charlie doesn’t get angry.”

“At all,” said Fred.

“He get’s pissed off –”

“And annoyed –”

“But Charlie _never_ gets angry.”

“When Percy broke mum and dad’s hearts, Bill was angry –”

“Fred and I were angry –”

“Ron was always angry, so he doesn’t count.”

“Ginny was _very_ angry. Almost murderous-angry.”

“But Charlie wasn’t. He went and talked to Percy, tried to make him see what’s right.”

“And even after Percy chose his career over us, Charlie still found a way to keep in touch with him and keep his relationship with him.”

“So you see,” said Fred, holding Hermione in arms’ length so he could look into her eyes, “the fact that Charlie was _angry_ because of something Ron _said_ that _implied_ something that besmirched your honour, was a _huge_ deal.”

George placed his chin on Hermione’s shoulder. “He likes you, sis. We’re sure of it.”

“And you like him, too,” said Fred. It was not even a question. “Just the fact that you are so concerned means there is something there.”

“And wanting to roast the woman for what she did to Charlie is kind of a big clue.”

They chuckled and Hermione smiled, too. She looked at Fred.

“So I just talk to him?”

“Um-hmm.”

“What do I say?”

Fred simply smiled. “Start with ‘hello’ and just allow the conversation to flow.”

George chuckled. “Don’t worry so much, sis. You know how to talk to Charlie. He’s just Charlie.”

Fred nodded. “Your Charlie.”

Hermione smiled at that. Her Charlie. She liked that.

“Charlie, what happened to your hair?”

Hermione emerged from Charlie’s fireplace, which was connected by floo to the twins’ flat, into his living room to find him in the bathroom trying to cut off pieces of his hair.

“Nazuri,” answered Charlie. He was trying to see the back of his head in the mirror, but was finding it difficult. “I went to the Crèche for a visit. The little tyke sneezed and set my hair on fire. I lost another flannel, too.”

True enough, he wearing sleeveless and it was burnt at the back and Hermione was getting distracted. She quickly shook her head and cleared her throat.

“Need help?”

“Yes, please.”

She went to him, but he was too tall. “Can’t you sit down somewhere?”

Charlie climbed up the steps to the sunken tub and sat inside it. He took off his shirt entirely and Hermione had to look away to remember what it was she was doing. She took out a mason jar from her beaded bag and transfigured it into a spray bottle, which she filled with water from the tap.

“To be honest, I’m still blaming Michan a little bit,” said Charlie, wiping the ash from his skin. “He thought it would be a great idea to introduce the newborns to feathers.”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“Yup. Three seconds later, I’m on fire.”

Hermione shook her head and took her heels off so she could sit down on the floor above Charlie, her legs on either side of him. “Lean forward a bit.”

The redhead did and tilted his head down, too.

Hermione sprayed Charlie’s hair.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Just water. It’ll be easier to cut your hair and see if I cut it straight if it’s wet.”

“Mm-kay. How was breakfast?”

Hermione’s hand shook a bit and she tried to focus on breathing evenly. “It went well. Pansy was there, too, so the three of us had a nice chat.”

“And you just got home now?”

“No…” She began to cut where the hair was absolutely singed. “Went to see the twins after. We got carried away chatting.”

“Hmm… By the way, mum floo-called. We’re having breakfast tomorrow at the Burrow for Fleur’s birthday.”

“Oh, I thought her birthday is on the fourth of February. I didn’t get her anything.”

“Doesn’t matter. Bill is taking her to France at noon for a week-long birthday honeymoon, so I’m thinking we can drop by Diagon after and have it parcel sent.”

“Brilliant.”

“Did you tell the twins you won your bet with Raphael, by the way?” He had a cheeky grin on his face.

“I did. They were proud. And then they showed me the products they were working on.”

“Uh-oh. Did they get in trouble?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Because technically I gave them the idea for it.”

“Wait, wait, wait.”

Hermione stopped cutting and Charlie turned around to face her.

“You gave a product idea to the twins? For their shop?”

“Yeah, they’re product testing it now and working on another one of my suggestions – a diary that will shock anyone who tried to read it that isn’t the owner.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?”

Hermione hit his arm and the Fireball tattooed on it bristled. “Damn, sorry, Sorin.”

This time, Charlie’s smile softened. “You remember his name? I only told you about him once.”

“Of course. He’s important to you.”

Charlie looked at her with appreciation and turned back to face the glass wall, a smile on his face. Hermione resumed her task. For a while, the silence descended, but Hermione relished in the peace of it. She savoured the comfortable feeling of just being in his presence with nothing but the sound of her scissors and the noonday light showing them the view of the Reserve.

By the time all the burnt hairs were gone, Charlie’s red mane was shortened to his shoulders. Hermione was concentrating on trying to make everything even when she heard Charlie chuckling beneath her. “What?”

“Nothing, I just remembered something,” he replied.

“What?”

“I won’t tell you while you hold scissors to my hair.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Tell me anyway, or I’ll cut a bald spot right here.” She touched the dome of his head and Charlie quickly ducked, making Hermione laugh.

“Fine,” he said. “I just remembered Krum.”

“Yeah? What about him?”

He chuckled again. “What is it with you and Quidditch players?”

“Uh! Excuse you.”

“What? Have you dated anyone that wasn’t one?”

Hermione frowned and pushed his head further down and continued cutting.

“Damn,” mumbled Charlie. “I should’ve gone and been a Seeker.”

Hermione had to bite her lip and actually remind herself to breathe. “And why’s that?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe then I’d stand a chance.”

The butterflies in Hermione’s stomach were doing the cancan. “Stand a chance at what?”

Charlie silently reached behind him and took her hand and gently brought it to his lips. He kissed her fingertips and her palm, down her wrist, up her forearm and then he kissed her scar. _That_ scar. The one she was branded.

He turned around and knelt in front of her, his other hand by her hip to steady himself, and he looked at her through his lashes. “Hi…”

Hermione’s heart was pounding on her chest. “Hi…”

“I was wondering if you’d allow me a chance to show you how I feel about you.”

She swallowed. This was it. This was that point.

“I don’t want you to think that we’re going behind Oliver’s back. Truth be told, I talked to him last night. I wanted to let him know that I wanted to talk to you, tell you all this.”

“And?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“He told me about a certain Viking…”

“Herlief?”

Charlie nodded.

“And?”

“And as the new Rider, I know that decision falls on you. But please don’t decide based on how anybody else might feel. Decide based on how _you_ feel about me. And if you want to know how I feel…” Charlie brought her hand down to his chest and made her feel his heartbeat. It was hammering on his chest and against her palm, matching the same rhythm as her thundering heart. “I wake up every morning excited to go to work because of you. Because I get to be with you and our dragons. Because I get to hear you sing. I get to hear you talk. I get to see you, be with you.” He sighed and touched her cheek, placed a wisp of hair that had fallen behind her ear. Then he soothingly ran the back of his finger on her jaw repeatedly. “I don’t know when, so don’t ask me. I just know somewhere in between, it hurt like hell that I wasn’t the one you looked at like that. That I wasn’t the one you danced with anymore.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

He smiled sadly. “You were happy. And that’s all I wanted. For you to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.”

“What changed your mind then?”

“I wanted a chance… Maybe I can make you happy, too.”

Hermione bit her lip. In the back of her mind, she could still hear the Viking king ask her his question. Could she walk away from Charlie _right now_? Could she deny whatever it was she felt for him for _the rest of her life_?

She looked at the redhead before her whose wisdom got her through grief and PTSD after the war, whose love and constant silent but reliable support got her through the toughest times in her life, whose understanding and warmth guided her out of being overwhelmed with everything that was going on with her bond with Luminaria. Charlie was there for her, always there for her. He was her constant, her rock, her anchor. He was her compass in the midst of confusion and her light in darkness. The Eira to her Herlief.

And Hermione got her answer then and there. No. She could not give him up.

Charlie wiped the tear Hermione did not even know fell from her eye and he looked at her with pain and acceptance, but without blame. “It’s okay…” he said. “If there’s only space in your heart for Oliver, I can understand.”

Hermione shook her head and kissed his forehead before touching her forehead to his. “You can have your chance, Charlie,” she said.

When Charlie smiled, Hermione’s heart soared. And when he hugged her, she felt complete and at peace. She made the right decision.

Hermione knew she was dreaming. She stood at the edge of the waterfall in the Wood Estate and beside her rushed the waters that fell steeply into the lake beneath. She turned around and followed the stream, the current of which seemed stronger than when she was here last. To her surprise, where previously the stream disappeared into a rock she could not possibly follow underneath, now stood an empty cave. The talon where she found Luminaria’s egg was still there, though now, a staircase existed beside it where there previously was only solid rock.

Hermione climbed down the spiralling stone staircase. The talon became a finger. The finger, a claw. The claw connected to an arm then a shoulder. Across the chest, Hermione climbed down the stairs and down the other arm, winding around it until she reached the ground. Her jaw fell.

The water from the stream above came from a pool that glowed blue and white, the water of which _floated up_. She made her way to it, but did not touch the water. It felt too sacred to desecrate. She turned back to the dragon she climbed down from and realized it was a version of Luminaria etched perfectly in stone.

“Hermione.”

Hermione turned around and saw seven intricately carved stone thrones, each of them different from the other. Six people stood in front of six thrones, yet one remained vacant. Hermione easily knew Herlief, but she also recognized Solveig from her statue that was perfected to her likeness, and Rowena, from her portrait at Hogwarts and the various photographs of her in books. The other three, however, Hermione did not know.

“Come forth, Rider,” called Solveig and Hermione obeyed. She walked despite her legs trembling in the power of the magic that surrounded them until she was in the middle of the semi-circle of thrones and Viking kings and queens.

She heard thuds and looked up and around her to see six different versions of Luminaria completely surround them.

“Hae ye made yer decision, Rider?” asked Solveig.

Hermione looked into her blue-green eyes. “Yes, I have.”

“And who dae ye choose?”

“I choose them both. Charlie is my rock and Oliver is my laughter. Charlie is my comfort and Oliver is my safety. They are my Fated… and I am theirs.”

Hermione sensed her presence without having to turn, but when she did, she gasped.

Luminaria came out of the pool not as the newborn she was but as the mature dragon she would be. She was not black-scaled, but made of the same substance as the pool, glowing blue and white, less than water but more than smoke.

Hermione walked closer to her dragon as her dragon walked closer to her. When they met, this Luminaria bent her head.

 _Are you ready, my Rider?_ She asked, her voice mature, melodic and beautiful.

“I am,” said Hermione.

The dragon lowered her head. _All happiness and love, all joy and peace, all prosperity and health, be unto you and your Fated._

“To you and your Fated!” the kings and queens replied, all of them watching Hermione and her dragon with joy.

_Through battles, storms and tides, may you grow ever stronger. Through wars and conquests, may you be victorious in all. Through famines and hardships, may you flourish and rise. And through good times and peace, may you prosper ever more._

“To you and your Fated!”

_May your womb be fertile and your lineage be long. May generations continue to establish what you build and uphold what you stand for. May your allies and your people expand, thrive and bloom. May your enemies crumble and fall, turn to dust and be forgotten. May your reign be long and full of peace._

“To you and your Fated!”

With a great breath, Luminaria blew fire onto Hermione, engulfing her in blue and white flames that she did not feel. What she felt instead was the strength of the magic that came from the earth, the air, the water and the fire. The blessing bestowed upon her and the fire that engulfed her charged the atmosphere and made it thick with magic Hermione had never felt before. Pure. Ancient. It flowed through her veins, changing something from the very depths of her and outwards.

Here and now, she knew there was no going back. And even if she was given the chance, Hermione would not take it for all the gold in Gringott’s.

When Hermione opened her eyes, she saw Luminaria asleep on her bed though she was not there the night before. Her dragon was glowing as bright as she was in Hermione’s dream. Hermione stretched this morning with a huge smile on her face. She felt like a new woman.

Quietly as to not wake the sleeping dragon, Hermione set about doing her morning routine. When she was about to brush her teeth, however, she noticed it. And it made her pause.

On her arm, above her scar, was a tattoo that was not there before. The magnificent view of the Scottish highlands was the background to the pine trees and their reflection in the water of the lake. The tattoo surrounded her arm like a band and on the side of her elbow, the foreground read Oliver’s name in bold black ink.

Hermione’s heart grew with joy she never thought she would feel. Oliver… _Her_ Oliver. With a laugh and a shout, she jumped around in circles, overflowing with gladness at the fact that he was hers and she was his.

Tearing her eyes from his name, she looked for another tattoo. She tried to find Charlie’s name in her arms, her legs, her torso, her back… but did not see it.

And just like that, Hermione’s heart broke… No matter how right it felt, no matter her choice… He wasn’t her Charlie…

Hermione took the coward’s way out. She did not wait for Charlie, but went through the floo of her cottage to the Burrow’s kitchen. How would she explain this to him now? Would she tell him she was to take back the chance she gave him yesterday because her tattoo showed up today and his name was not on her? Could she really break his heart like that when just the mere thought of it made her want to crumble to a thousand pieces?

“Hermione!”

The witch turned and saw Arthur. “Dad!” she called and ran to hug him. Her father figure embraced her tightly and it was a comfort to her. “How have you been?”

“Busy! Wonderfully busy!” said Arthur and they parted. “A lot of things to do at the Ministry, helping Kingsley sort out the rotten eggs.”

Hermione forced a smile for him. “But are you well? Not too stressed out?”

“Me? Stressed out? What can the Ministry throw at me that my children haven’t trained me for?”

Hermione squeezed him in another hug before she heard the floo activate behind her. Turning to look, she saw her brother emerge.

“Morning!” greeted Harry.

“Morning, my boy,” said Arthur. “How is it?”

“Brilliant!” said Harry and kissed Hermione’s cheek as she vanished the soot from both of them. “They gave me the keys yesterday.”

“Wait,” said Hermione. “You mean Grimmauld’s finished?”

“Absolutely! Refurbished from top to bottom. You wouldn’t recognize it anymore if you tried.”

“Lovely! What about _the portrait_?” asked Arthur.

“Gone. Done and dusted!” Harry’s grinned widely. “All I have to do now is furnish everything!”

Hermione hugged him. “I’m so happy for you!”

The twins came in soon after and they all flocked to the backyard. Percy was helping Molly set up the table while Fred and George set up a Warmth Ward, a new product, that surrounded the table so they could enjoy the peeking sun and not be cold despite the crisp breeze. Bill and Fleur came through the door not long after and the French woman gushed over Hermione’s off-shoulder, long-sleeved knitted dress with matching light brown ankle boots that Pansy got her for Christmas. After greeting her an advanced happy birthday, everyone began to catch up on everything that was going on in their lives.

Hermione could not help but feel sad, though, as they gathered around the table and ate. They were her family. She could officially have been a part of them, but now… Charlie… Her heart still ached. Her Charlie was not hers…

A pop was heard and through the gate of the paddock fence that surrounded the entire property entered Ron. He walked on and slowed as he neared the table as silence and awkwardness replaced the once booming and joyful conversations.

“I – er – sorry, I didn’t know everyone would be here,” he said.

“No worries, dear,” said Molly. “We’re having breakfast before Bill and Fleur take off for France, is all.”

“Right…” He awkwardly stood looking at everyone before deciding to go in the house. “I’ll just take my bag and be on my way.”

Hermione turned around and simply looked at the table. She gathered her hair and placed them on her shoulder, hoping Ron wouldn’t –

“Hermione?”

Shite.

“Why do you have my brother’s name tattooed on the back of your neck?”

Double shite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's screaming?


	29. Truth It Is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, am back! With all this COVID-19 mess, thank goodness I managed to return home just as we went into lockdown yet again for another week and, since I was not present, I'm safe from any of the locations of interest where the persons of interest who were tested positive were located (unfortunately, it was near my area).
> 
> Anyhoo, I wish for everyone's safety. After 7 days, the alert levels will be revised and hopefully, return to level 1. We shall see.
> 
> I desperately need something to cheer me up. So here's to cheering you up from whichever corner of the world you're in. Keep safe and let's enjoy our own world for a while... :)

In the silence that followed, everyone at the table looked at each other in momentary confusion before Fleur peeked through the back of Hermione’s neck and gasped. Right on time, the door to the kitchen opened and out walked Charlie, shoulder-length hair half tied up. The first person his eyes sought was Hermione, who could only stare back at him with wide eyes, shock all over her features.

She had Charlie’s name. Hermione had Charlie’s name! It was as though the grey clouds that hovered over her emotionally parted and Hermione was once again bathing in the warmth of the sun. She did not hear anyone murmuring. She did not hear their questions and their confusion. There was only her and _her Charlie._

The chair toppled back when she stood but she did not care. Hermione ran to her Fated and jumped in his arms that were always there to catch her. She buried her face in his neck just as he lifted her up to do the same. _Pine, smoke and fresh laundry._ _Her Charlie._

“My Charlie,” she whispered and felt Charlie squeeze her tighter.

There was someone shouting “YES!” and someone was hollering and there was clapping and someone else asking what was happening, but Hermione did not care.

When Charlie finally slowly let her down and they parted, he planted a kiss on her forehead reminiscent of the one she gave him the day before. “My Mia,” he whispered and Hermione’s heart felt full.

With a contented sigh, Hermione leaned away from him and looked at his blue, blue eyes. She had never noticed before, but his sky blue had a mix of azure. “Hi…”

“Hi…” Charlie smiled and Hermione’s heart constricted. “I really want to talk to you, but right now I think we have some explaining to do.”

 _Oh. Right_. Breathing in deep to prepare herself, Hermione turned around and noticed Ron was gone. Good. This would be somewhat easier without his drama added to the mix. Charlie took her hand and squeezed it before taking the lead and bringing her to their family.

“I know you probably have a lot of questions,” Charlie started.

“Nope!” said Fred, standing up with his arms crossed on his puffed chest and grinning widely. “This is beautiful! I FULLY SUPPORT IT!”

“I SECOND THE MOTION!” said George, punching his fist up in the air.

Hermione bit her lip and held her laughter, telling herself that this was a _very_ important conversation.

“So do we, but we have questions,” said Bill gently, looking from the blushing Hermione to his happy and contented brother.

“Since when…” Molly started but could not quite make it past her shock as she took in her beloved children. “Fated?”

Charlie and Hermione nodded. As though to prove it, Charlie unbuttoned his shirt and showed them his chest. There, just left of centre where he had placed Hermione’s hand to feel his heartbeat as he told her of his feelings, was a tattoo of a dragon she knew had gone extinct. Though, for now and until the bond remained unsealed, the tattoos would be in black and grey, Hermione knew the colours of this dragon would one day be blue dipped in red and gold and her braided-like spine would one day shine in brilliant gold. For tattooed on Charlie’s chest in a circle, and no doubt on the back of Hermione’s neck, was Eira’s dragon.

Hermione wanted to touch it, to trace her name written on Charlie’s skin, but refrained from doing so. Instead, she focused on what Charlie was saying.

“This is so complicated that, truth be told, we don’t know where to start,” he said.

“When did you find out?” asked Percy.

“Today,” said Charlie.

Several shocked shouts of “Today!” was heard and Charlie sighed. Hermione decided to take over.

“Everyone,” she called, “will you please give us half an hour before we explain everything?”

“Half an hour? Where are you going?” asked Harry suspiciously.

“There are things we need to clarify right now,” said Hermione. “We need to go to the Reserve and talk to Caine, for one.”

“You’re going into work now?” asked Bill.

“Look, it’s complicated,” said Charlie. “But please trust us.”

“Call in Ginny, too,” said Hermione. “I think we need a family meeting.” She looked at Charlie, who nodded his head.

“Half an hour,” said Charlie one last time then he and Hermione ran back into the house.

“Do you know how to reach Caine?” asked Hermione.

“Yes.” Charlie conjured his patronus and asked the director to come to Central, citing an emergency, before they threw floo powder into the fireplace and shouted for the Reserve. Upon exiting in Central, Hermione paused.

Oliver stood before her.

When bottle green eyes met chocolate brown, it was like air was knocked out of her. She needed to breathe and Oliver was the refreshing mist that brought the dew on the mountaintops. When he said her name and smiled that smile she loved, it was like breathing air as pure as heaven. And when he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her shoulder, his lips left an imprint on her skin as warm as dragon’s breath and Hermione happily melted to his touch.

When they parted, Oliver pulled back his jumper and showed his right side. From the bottom of his throat, through his right clavicle and onto his shoulder was the same magnificent view of the Scottish highlands with pine trees and their reflection on the water. And at the forefront of it was her name.

Hermione smiled and lifted her left arm sleeve to show him his name.

Oliver smiled all the more.

Meanwhile, Charlie had swept her hair to the side and touched his name at the back of her neck. He traced the circular position that the dragon was in and Hermione was surprised that it went from the back of her neck, the circle capturing a little space between her neck and her shoulders and down towards the top of her thoracic spine, with his name in the middle.

“A told ye,” said Oliver, looking at Charlie with amused eyes.

Charlie chuckled. “So you did.”

“Does she touch Lumi?” Hermione asked, her voice little in her giddiness.

“No,” said Charlie with a smile, “but I think Lumi likes to wiggle and touch her.”

Hermione was overwhelmed by the fact that after all her worrying and overthinking and emotional upheaval, there was this wonderful peace brought to her by these two amazing human beings that had chosen, and she had chosen, to be hers. She felt complete and content and –

“Weasley! You better have a damned good reason for bringing me here on a bloody Sunday!”

The three of them turned around and saw Caine exiting the fireplace.

“Sir, can we please talk in your office?” asked Charlie.

“Like hell. Tell me here and now –”

Charlie pulled his shirt open and rendered Caine speechless by the tattoo on his chest. When Oliver pulled his jumper as well, Caine’s jaw fell entirely.

“Do I need to show you mine?” asked Hermione.

That seemed to shake the director back into his senses and he immediately led them into his office, which he then shut, warded and silenced. With a flick of his wand, the glass walls became opaque. He sat behind his desk and clasped his hands together. “Talk.”

Hermione told him of her latest dream, of the cave, of the King and Queen Riders, of the gathered dragons, of her choice and of Luminaria’s blessing and fire.

“And when I woke, there they were,” she finished.

All three men were astounded.

“These dreams,” said Caine. “Clearly, they’re more than just that.”

“They’re a connection in a different plane,” said Oliver. “Everything Hermione encounters and experiences in her dreams _happens_ in real life, just nae in this plane.”

“They’re a spiritual thing?” asked Caine.

“Ye could say tha’,” said Oliver. “Tha’s why Riders af auld can talk tae her and mentor her. And whatever she learns frae them, she can bring back here, in the physical, in our world, in this plane af existence.”

Hermione was fascinated by Oliver’s knowledge of the subject. Perhaps this was why they were Fated. She was fascinated with his mind, intrigued by the knowledge of various things that he held and the wisdom of how he applied them.

“This kind of Fated…” Caine sighed. “It is rare magic. And for it to fall on a triad…” He leaned back on his chair and exhaled heavily once more. “Just how powerful is this bloody dragon?”

“The seventh,” said Oliver and they all looked at him again. “We all knoo seven is the most powerful magical number. Hermione said in her dream, there were seven thrones, but only six kings and queens. Tha’s because _Hermione_ is the _seventh_ Rider. Luminaria is the _seventh_ incarnation af the Viking’s Throne.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “But I wasn’t made queen. They were just giving us the blessing.”

“Didn’t you say Eimhir called you destined Queen of the Dragons?” asked Caine.

“Ye met Eimhir?” asked Oliver, gobsmacked.

Hermione thought he looked like a child who was asking her if she really did meet one of his childhood heroes. He looked so cute. “Yes, I met Eimhir,” she said and watched his absolutely adorable reaction before tearing herself away to look at Caine before she blushed profusely. “And yes, Eimhir did call me destined Queen of the Dragon, but it wasn’t as if I was made queen that day. She did say ‘destined’.”

“You mean it was more of a future queen type of thing?” asked Charlie.

“Something like that, I guess,” said Hermione.

“Naw, it is,” said Oliver, who seemed to have gone back to his usual self. “She wouldnae be recognized as Queen until Luminaria is af age. According tae legend, Dragon and Rider were crowned tagether.”

“So we have two years,” said Charlie.

“Naw,” said Oliver. “Viking’s Throne Dragons mature within the year. Ye’ll see her begin ta groo much quicker on her third or fourth month. And the dragons aroond her’ll mature faster as well. Ye’ll be able tae keep an eye on tha’ with Nazuri.”

Caine swallowed and breathed in deep, though Hermione could tell he was rocked to his core.

“Sir, we need to tell our families,” said Charlie, bringing them back to the reason they came. “They’re asking questions and we think it’s time they knew the truth.”

Caine thought deeply before he replied. “We need to ensure that those who will hear can be trusted to keep this a secret. Not just because the Ministry might hear and intervene, but also for the safety both of Granger and the dragon. Where are you meeting?”

“At my parents’ house, sir,” said Charlie.

“Is the place secure?”

“Yes, sir. My brother is a Curse-Breaker and so is his wife. They’ve done the best they could.”

Caine nodded. “What of the others in the team?”

“They don’t know yet.” Charlie looked at both Hermione and Oliver. “And if it’s all right, we want to talk about it first before we let others know.”

Hermione felt relief wash her when he said that. She was ashamed of her Fated, but Hermione wanted them to all be in the same page first before letting others know. Family would be understandable. Hermione had no doubt Eleonora knew already. But friends, co-workers, teammates, the public? They needed to talk first.

Caine stroked his beard in thought before he opened his drawer and pulled out a moss green Frisbee. “This one leads directly into the Crèche and can bring you back to the point of origin within half an hour. Activate it at your parents’ house and it’ll bring you back there.”

“Thank you so much, sir,” said Charlie and accepted the portkey.

“And if it’s all right, sir,” said Hermione. “We’re going to need Adrian and Avienne.”

***

Oliver woke up that morning trying to remember the dream he had of Hermione and Luminaria. At least, he thought it was Luminaria though she was much bigger and the dragon was so bright, he could not look directly at it. Though its details were blurred in his mind, Oliver could not shake the feeling of the magic-infused atmosphere that surrounded him in that dream. It was so powerful he almost thought it was real.

Wiping his eyes, Oliver got up to get ready for the day. They had extensive training again today and he was not planning on taking it easy on the team just because they had won several victories already. They were not even on the halfway point. The Chasers needed to watch their sharp turns, the Beaters needed faster reflexes and their Seeker needed to learn not to rely too much on the Beaters to keep the Bludgers away. Even Oliver needed to be more alert and not too focused on the Quaffle that he would make himself vulnerable and open to Bludgers and players both.

As he got into the shower, his thoughts consumed by the game play he wanted to try, Oliver completely missed the new decoration that adorned his body. Only after he got out of the shower and faced the mirror as he intended to shave that Oliver noticed. With eyes wide as saucers, he cursed Merlin’s pants and Morgana’s tits before he started jumping up and down in absolute joy. He went back to the mirror and traced the sacred grounds he knew well and then her name, wondering if at this moment she was doing the same. Hermione. His Fated. _His_.

Oliver smiled as a new thought entered his mind and he wondered if at this moment, Charlie was looking in the mirror, too, tracing Hermione’s name. Their Fated. _Theirs_.

Immediately overcome with a new purpose, Oliver dressed in black jeans, a dark grey jumper and black boots and made himself presentable before rushing to Isaac Morgenthau’s office.

“Oi, Oli!” Keon called him from down the hall. “Why aren’t ye in gear? Thought ye were gaunnae make us work tadae?”

On either side of the hulking man, the team was giving him confused and concerned glances. Oliver never took the day off. Merlin knew he had to be restrained onto the bed when he broke his ribs last season.

“Change af plans, lads,” said Oliver simply and entered the team manager’s office before shutting the door and silencing it.

“Good morning to you, too, Wood,” said Morganthau, looking up from his paper work and leaning back on his chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you out of your uniform this morning?”

“There’s an emergency,” said Oliver. “A need tae go tae Scotland immediately.”

“What’s happened? Is your mother all right?”

“Aye, she’s fine. It’s nae that kind af emergency.”

“Then what?” The Team Manager raised an eyebrow. Oliver was usually calm and grounded, yet at the moment his energy was different.

Oliver knew Hermione craved privacy and he wanted to give her that. He could trust his team manager but he wanted to speak with her about it first before he revealed her identity to other people. Taking his wand, he pointed at his clavicle and put Glamour over his tattoo.

Normally, when Glamour was applied on the skin, it hid whatever was underneath. There were limitations to the charm, of course. The bigger the thing that needed covering, the shorter the effectiveness of the charm, which meant one had to repeatedly cast the spell throughout the day. But for a small scratch, a bruise or a pimple, Glamour could last all day when performed correctly and leave one looking flawless. Having said that, Glamour could never cover up dark magic.

On the other hand, when done correctly on a Fated tattoo, Glamour blurred the name into a smoke-like mesh the colour of the person’s skin though not the image. It was for that reason that Oliver used the spell and when he showed his clavicle to his manager, Morganthau understood and without further questions, Oliver was excused for the next three days.

Returning back to his room, Oliver packed his bags in haste. Excitement was beating in his chest and he could barely think straight. When his teammates asked what had happened, he simply said he needed to go back to Scotland.

The air was still crisp this January, but that was not what froze Oliver upon arriving at his childhood home. His mother was waltzing in the living room with strength that he had not seen in her for two years. “Ma?”

Eleonora turned to his son and with a glow and wide smile, held him close and pulled him into the waltz. “It’s happened, son! It’s happened!” she joyfully exclaimed.

Oliver could not help but laugh and he picked up his mother and spun her around. When he put her down, he pulled his jumper to the side and showed her his tattoo.

Eleonora cried out in joy and embraced her son. “Am soo very proud! A never thought a’d live tae see a Rider. Let alone ma ain son!”

Oliver smiled warmly at his mother. “A ought tae tell ye… Am nae her only Fated.”

“Aye, a ken.” Eleonora touched his face with both of her hands and held his gaze. “Love her… and respect her… and guide her. The love af yer Fated isnae a competition fer ye tae win, Oliver. It isnae a contest tae prove who’s the better man. Her love is fer ye tae nourish and alloo tae groo. Handle it with care and nurture it well.” She smiled. “Charlie is her love, tae. And if ye shoo him as much love and respect and guidance as ye dae fer her, the stronger all af ye will be.”

Oliver nodded, taking in the words of his mother.

“Yer naw langer three, Oli. Always remember tha’. They are a part af ye noo. They are yer priority noo. Nae yer Quidditch, nae even mae and yer brother. It’s Hermione and Charlie that _must_ come first noo. Teach them what they need tae knoo. Strengthen the bond and the trust between ye and sustain each other. And ye watch fer them. Ye hear? Ye _watch_ fer yer Fated like a dragon dos. Ye understand?”

Oliver nodded his head again, drinking in her wisdom, even as he swallowed. Years of hearing and learning about Viking lore and the lore of the Timeless, and now it was happening to him. He understood the job he must play in this triad. He knew it from the significance of the tattoo.

The sacred and ancient ground where his family’s home was built was also the birthplace and nesting place of the Viking’s Throne of old.

***

Charlie watched the faces of his family as they listened to Hermione tell the tale of Luminaria the dragon and of their bond. Avienne would jump in and switch flawlessly with her now and then, as though they had practiced presenting this. Adrian and Oliver would jump in as well to clarify the significance of certain things according to Viking lore and dragon lore, and Charlie would take over once in a while, telling the story from his perspective.

His mother and father sat side-by-side, hands tightly clasped together. From time to time, they would look at each other and share a secret smile, especially when Hermione and Charlie told them of how they were dealing with the two newborns and how they were supporting each other through the craziness. It was like they were pinpointing the moments that put up a flag for them as to how their adopted daughter and second son began to have feelings for each other. And in hindsight, Charlie could see it, too, how he began to fall for her.

Fleur was captivated as though she was being told her favourite love story and Bill was interested in dragon behaviour and, somehow, how Charlie and Hermione handled the newborns via co-parenting. Charlie got the feeling his brother was ready for fatherhood and was simply picking up tips on what to expect, somewhat.

Percy, ever the scholar, was interested in the mystery of the bond – both in Hermione and Lumi, and Hermione and him. From time to time, his brother wrote notes. Of what, Charlie had no clue. He was willing to bet that Percy would interview Hermione or even Avienne for further details later on.

Fred and George knew most of the story. They were sitting with anticipation and were enthralled like children the whole way through. They would cheer at times and make frightened noises when appropriate to “build up the thrill”, as they said when Molly scolded them the first five times before she gave up.

Ginny was giddy. She kept wiggling her eyebrows at Charlie whenever he would look at her. He figured his sister had realized where this was going. Funnily enough, she would look at Oliver whenever Charlie and Hermione would mention co-parenting their dragons as though trying to gauge his reaction. Then he remembered that his dear little sister knew Oliver was courting Hermione. Boy, was she in for a surprise.

What made Charlie nervous, though, was Harry James Potter. He must really be trained well because he had a neutral mask the entire time. And even when Charlie showed his tattoo and then Oliver showed his, which surprised everyone in the room including the twins, Avienne and Adrian, Harry’s face remained impassive.

Hermione pulled her hair to her shoulder and showed everyone the back of her neck, which had Charlie’s name before she faced them again and showed them her forearm that bore Oliver’s.

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” said Fleur. “ _C’est impossible!_ Zis kind of Fated is rare on eet’s own, but a triad? _Zut alors!_ ”

“Historically,” said Percy, “the most famous Fated triad are the Founders themselves and, though one could argue that triads do happen, there hasn’t been a record of any that are Fated for a thousand years.”

“One thousand and nine years, tae be exact,” said Oliver. “Eimhir, Rowena Ravenclaw’s dragon, was born in 990 and Ravenclaw was Fated tae Gryffindor and Slytherin five months later.”

Hermione’s head turned. “Gryffindor and Slytherin?”

Oliver nodded and so did Adrian.

Hermione shook her head. “No, Rowena was Fated to Helga. She was her Seer.” She sounded so certain that Charlie quickly got the feeling Hermione neglected to tell them something.

“She was _first_ Fated tae Slytherin,” said Oliver. “But he later refused the Fate and broke their Fated bonds.”

Her hand flew to her chest. “That’s possible?”

Sadly, Oliver nodded. “After he left, Eimhir chose Helga fer her Rider. Rowena and Helga fell in love and they were Fated after.”

“But… how? Why?”

“Other than the fact that Slytherin was a selfish bastard?” asked Fred.

“And a jealous, absolute creep to boot?” added George.

“Boys, language,” chastised Molly.

Oliver held Hermione’s hand. “It was his choice. He learnt his mistake and came back tae Ravenclaw later, only tae learn it was tae late. According tae legend, he made the Chamber af Secrets in a vow fer revenge and later died alone af heartache and loneliness.”

This news seemed to disturb Hermione and Charlie dreaded to think that she was thinking they would do the same to her, that it was a possibility. Silently, he reached for her back and ran his fingers up and down the path he knew her tattoo of Luminaria and her scar took, hoping it would comfort her.

“So what does this mean?” asked Molly, her eyes flitting between the three of them. “Have you talked about it?”

Hermione blushed in a heartbeat, so Charlie took over.

“We haven’t discussed anything yet, mum,” he said. “If and when we do, please don’t be offended when we don’t give you the details.”

Fred and George howled in laughter and Ginny spat out the water she was drinking. Harry patted her back and, for the first time since they started talking, actually smiled.

“Oh, that’s not what I meant!” Molly bristled and then she pointed a threatening finger at her second born. “You best behave yourself, Charlie Weasley. I am not above telling some more stories to Hermione. Or better yet, to Oliver.”

The Scot laughed uproariously. He rose from her seat and kissed her hand as Charlie looked at his mother in horror. “A would make time fer tea any day tae hear these stories, Mrs. Weasley,” said Oliver.

Molly pinched his cheek. “Call me Molly or call me mum. We’re to be family now!”

The traitorous bastard gave her a charming grin. “As ye wish, Molly.”

“Be careful, Oliver,” said Arthur with a smile, “otherwise she’d have you booked every Saturday!”

“As lang as we dinnae have a game and embarrassing stories are on the table, a’ll be there.”

Arthur smiled at his wife. “I should show him the shed.”

“I booked him first,” said Molly. “You wait your turn.”

Charlie made a face at the smug-looking Oliver as he walked back to his seat and shook his head. “I can’t believe I sign in for Hermione and get stuck with you.”

“Well, we’re a package deal, ma Fated and a,” said Oliver, holding Hermione’s hand and placing it on top of his heart.

Charlie playfully frowned and pulled Hermione by the waist closer to him. Oliver responded by tugging her even more until they were basically playing tug-of-war with Hermione and she was laughing and Avienne was saying, “Aww, they’re so cute.”

Charlie punched Oliver’s shoulder in jest and the Scot slapped his arm in return. When Charlie looked at Hermione, he saw her with her head down, blushing profusely, but with a happy smile on her face, like she could not quite believe this was real.

“So what will happen now?” asked Ginny. “I mean, you guys are Fated, the dragons have a bond with you. What now?”

Hermione looked out at their family and gave them a little smile. “We’re still figuring that out.”

Charlie was not convinced by that smile. It was the kind she used to use when she was reassuring others that she was okay after the break-up, and yet he still heard her sing sad songs at night. There was something Hermione was not telling.

“For the moment,” said Harry, standing up, “can I talk to you two?” He pointed at Charlie and Oliver and made his way out the backdoor without waiting for the two of them.

Charlie and Oliver looked at each other in apprehension.

“A thought a already had The Talk,” said Oliver.

From their corner of the living room, Fred burst into heaving cries and hugged his twin. “He was so young,” he said as he wailed. “I’m gonna miss him so much!”

George consolingly patted his back. “How were we supposed to know that despite his work with dragons, Scar-Head would be his undoing?”

“And they were so happy!”

“Charlie, we’re never going to forget you!”

The twins bawled ridiculously, making even their parents laugh, that Charlie simply rolled his eyes. Hermione had her head down again and was biting her lip, so Charlie thought, well, if he was going to die today, might as well. He kissed her cheek and winked when she turned to him in surprise before standing up and walking to his fate. “Get a move on, Oli!” he called over his shoulder.

The Scot kissed the back of Hermione’s hand and stood, too. Adrian patted his back as he walked by.

“If ye dinnae come back, a’ll tell Ma ye love her.”

“Prat,” murmured Oliver and out the door they went.

Harry was over by the pond, skipping rocks by the dock and Charlie and Oliver made the trip over.

“What did he say to you when you talked to him?” asked Charlie.

“Trying oot fer pointers?” chuckled Oliver.

“Have you seen Harry pissed off?” retaliated Charlie. “I think he cursed Ron in front of my parents when he and Hermione broke up and they didn’t tell him off about it.”

That seemed to get Oliver’s attention. “Well – er – he just wanted tae knoo that a’ll treat her right. Tha’ what a said weren’t just empty promises.”

Charlie took a deep breath and nodded. Why was he so nervous?

When they reached the dock, Harry did not speak nor turn to acknowledge their presence. He seemed to be deep in thought, skipping stones, and Charlie was not sure if that was a good sign or not, so they simply stood there. Charlie put his hands in his pockets while Oliver clasped his hands behind him, ready for his fate.

This was ridiculous. This was Harry, for goodness’ sake!

When he finally turned around, Charlie wanted to amend that previous thought. Nope, this was not just Harry. This was Auror Potter and, like the Head Auror that trained him, this Potter had a cold stare that brokered no arguments, that dared them to lie and see if they would live to see the next day. It made Charlie swallow spit.

“What are you not telling me?” asked Harry, eyeing the two of them.

“What?” asked Charlie.

“I can’t help but notice the massive gap in Hermione’s story as to _why_ she was chosen.” He turned a flat stone in his hand. “I’ve done the whole Chosen One thing and the destiny thing. Now I want to know why it’s happening to my sister. What aren’t you telling me?”

Charlie’s thoughts were confirmed; Hermione was hiding something back. But how would he tell Harry that without breaking Hermione’s trust? Thankfully, it was Oliver that answered.

“Truth be told,” said the Scot, “we’re still putting the pieces tagether. There hasnae been a dragon and Rider fer a millenium –”

“And yet you knew from legend and lore that Hermione is the next Rider based on _one_ dragon hatching,” pointed out Harry. “Not even that, based on the fact that she shared her life force with this dragon.”

Charlie shifted his weight from one foot to the other. This was not going well for them.

“Aye, a knew that –”

“And you knew she was going to be your Fated before the tattoos came out.”

“Aye, a did, but –”

“And you knew Charlie was going to be the other Fated before they even realized their feelings for each other.”

Oliver sighed. Yup, they were fucked.

“Look, Harry,” said Charlie, touching Oliver’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort, “yes, he knew those things, but only because they had precedence. The signs were all there. But as to why, it’s different each time.

“Solveig became the First Rider so she could defend her people against those who sought to annihilate them. Rowena became Queen Rider so magic could be taught and passed down from generation to generation, and her legacy lives on. We don’t know why now and why Hermione. The only thing we know is why us.”

“And why is that then?” asked Harry.

Charlie looked at Oliver and back at the raven-haired wizard he loved as a brother. “Because we care for her,” he said simply. “I support her and take care of her and help her through whatever the hell she’s facing, and Oli makes her laugh and abolishes her insecurities and enlightens her mind.” He shrugged his shoulder. “Twice now, she had fallen for hands not worthy of her skin, minds that would never understand her value nor can feed the depths of her thirst for knowledge, and selfish hearts incapable of loving and accepting her the way she needed. Oliver and I, we can’t assure you we’d always make it happen, but we sure will damn well try our hardest and our best.”

Harry did not say anything, but simply looked at him like he was trying to read his thoughts.

“Charlie’s right,” said Oliver. “This is all very new. We havnae even talked aboot this. But ye can trust us tae go at Hermione’s pace on this wan. Harry, ye dae knoo we’d never break her trust, right? We’ve worked hard tae earn it. We can never hurt her. We chose her.”

“Like Slytherin chose Ravenclaw?” asked Harry.

“No,” said Charlie. “Like Oliver and I chose Hermione, and she chose us. Don’t compare us to him, Harry, we’re not anything like him.”

Harry did look apologetic, for which Charlie was grateful. “You’ll take care of my sister, won’t you, Charlie?” he asked. “I can trust you with that, can’t I?”

“Absolutely.”

“You once told me Hermione made her own choices and did what she thought was best given the hand she was dealt. Remember that?”

Charlie nodded his head. He still remembered that conversation with Harry when the wizard broke down in fear of losing his sister.

Harry’s brows furrowed with emotion. “Promise me she’d never have to make those kinds of sacrifices again. I want her to be happy. Really happy. And if you two can make that happen, then fine. You have my support, my blessing, my help if you want it. But I want you to promise me that Hermione wouldn’t have to go through what I went through. That she wouldn’t be used for the power and bond that she holds. And when you do talk about this… _situation_ , promise me she wouldn’t be on the brunt side of the backlash.” He eyed Oliver, too. “Protect my sister from the public’s reaction to this.”

“What aboot Skeeter?” asked Oliver. “She’s ma biggest concern if and when this comes oot.”

“I’ll handle Skeeter,” said Harry, waving it off, and Charlie wondered what he got in the works.

“I promise,” said Charlie and patted Oliver on the back. “Don’t we?”

“Tha’ goes withoot saying,” said Oliver. “She’s our priority noo, Harry. She’ll always be first before anything else.”

“Even your Quidditch?” teased Charlie.

“Aye, even Quidditch, ye big dunderheid. Am here, aren’ a?”

Charlie chuckled and, to his relief, so did Harry.

“Well, good,” said Harry and put his hands in his pockets. It was a simple change in his demeanour, but Charlie was sure they got their old Harry back. “Let’s get back inside before they think I’ve killed both of you. Pretty sure Hermione’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Patting his messy head, Charlie put one arm around Harry and another around Oliver and they all walked back to the house. “Did we pass the test?” he asked.

“We’re alive, aren’t we?” answered Oliver.

Harry chuckled. “Did you expect threats?”

Charlie nodded. “Little bit.”

“All right,” said Harry and awkwardly said, “If you hurt my sister, I’ll – er – drown you in your own blood.”

Charlie and Oliver chuckled.

“I’ll – er – I’ll hex your bollocks off. I’ll boil your teeth. I’ll fill you with parchment cuts then sprinkle you with lemon!”

“Naw, anything but parchment cuts and lemon!” said Oliver and they all had a laugh.

The living room was filled with laughter when they came in as well. And of course, Fred and George had to be the ones to see them first.

“Georgie, do you think he at least put up a decent fight?” asked Fred and pretended to dab the corners of his eyes.

“I can only hope so, Freddie,” George said with an exaggeratedly shaky breath. “He was so brave…”

“All right, shut it,” said Charlie.

“Sometimes, I can still hear his voice,” said George. “Go to the light, Charlie!”

Charlie sent a stinging hex their way and the twins immediately jumped up, clutching their bottoms.

“You done with your overprotective-brother routine?” Hermione asked Harry. She was sitting on the armchair with Ginny on her lap, hugging her.

“What routine?” asked Harry innocently. “We just had a chat, that’s all.”

“What kind of chat, son?” asked Arthur, who was looking far too pleased for Charlie’s liking.

“Something aboot boiling our teeth,” said Oliver nonchalantly, “and parchment cuts sprinkled with lemons.”

“Yeah, and something about drowning in our own blood,” said Charlie, casually sitting back on his chair, “and of course…” he and Oliver chorused: “Hexing our bollocks off.”

“Ah, the Deluxe Talk,” said George and gave Harry a round of applause. “Well done, Harry!”

Harry was blushing red and avoiding Hermione’s wide eyes and open-mouthed gape. “So anyone for a game of Quidditch?”

“Actually, I have a better idea,” said Charlie, pulling out the shrunken Frisbee from his pocket. “Who’s interested in meeting our dragons?”

***

Hermione landed in the Crèche with Avienne, the Wood brothers, the Weasleys and Harry holding onto a moss green Frisbee and was immediately greeted by a roar. Everyone’s eyes turned to the pit where Memphis and Raphael were currently playing with a very familiar Antipodean Opaleye who had significantly grown. Now eight feet long, Adherion further surprised Hermione when he spread his wings and flew up and dove accurately between the two dragon keepers’ widespread arms. They clapped for him appreciatively at the display and so did the Weasley’s. Meanwhile, Hermione, Avienne, Charlie and Adrian were absolutely astounded.

“Ah, we have guests!” said Memphis, noticing them there.

Adherion, too, turned to look and in his excitement, bounded over to the group. Hermione was further surprised when she heard the dragon speak loudly in her mind as he screeched happily. He sounded a little older than a child in her head. _Oliver! You’re here!_

The Weasleys immediately dispersed with a shout, while Adrian, who saw the dragon running for his brother, went to block the dragon but was stopped by Avienne. Instead, Oliver reached for the beautiful pearl white dragon and Adherion nuzzled his snout against him.

“Merlin, ye’ve groon, havnae ye?” said Oliver, scratching all over Adherion’s neck. “Look at ye, bud! And ye can fly! A didnae think ye’d be able tae dae tha’ yet!”

Adherion stood up on his hind legs and jumped on Oliver as though trying to hug him and Oliver tried to hold him as best as he could. _I’ve missed you! I’ve missed you so much!_

Oliver laughed but Hermione could not miss his look of surprise. “A’ve missed ye, too, bud. Look at ye.” He looked at Hermione, awe in his face. Hermione knew that look. It was the same one that he wore that morning when he asked her if she really saw Eimhir. One of Oliver’s childhood dreams had come true.

“You can hear him,” said Hermione, fascinated, “can’t you?”

That got Avienne’s interest quickly and Adrian’s, too.

“A can,” said Oliver in disbelief and turned back to the dragon. “A can hear ye, bud.”

Adherion purred deep in his throat as he came back down on all fours again and nudged Oliver’s stomach. _You’re Fated to the Rider now, Oliver. Of course, you can hear me._

Oliver laughed in pure joy.

“What did he say? What did he tell you?” asked Avienne.

It was a dumbstruck Charlie who answered. “He said, Oliver’s Fated to Hermione now, so of course he could hear him.”

“You can understand the dragon?” asked Ginny.

Charlie nodded in shock.

“Wicked!” chorused the twins.

Two more happy, tiny screeches filled the Crèche.

_Mia! Dada!_

_Mummy! Dada!_

Everyone looked up to see Thell and Michan holding two precious dragons with dragon-hide gloves and wearing dragon-hide jackets.

“Oh, dear Godric! They’re so cute!” said Ginny, squeezing Harry’s arm.

Hermione and Charlie instinctively muttered a Heat-Proofing Charm as well as a Fireproofing Charm over their clothes before they took their newborns and showed them to the group.

“Everyone,” said Charlie. “This is Nazuri.”

“And this is Luminaria,” said Hermione. “Baby, sweetie, these are the Weasleys.”

The two dragons tore their eyes from their parents and looked at those gathered around them.

 _Your family, Da?_ The Fireball looked up at Charlie, who just about melted upon hearing his small voice.

“Yeah, that’s our family, baby,” he replied. “That’s my mum and dad right there.”

Arthur and Molly inched closer to the little red dragon.

“Hello, Nazuri,” said Arthur with the same enthusiasm he showed his favourite Muggle inventions and Hermione loved him all the more for it. “How are you, little one?”

Nazuri laughed in short growls and snorts. _He has your hair, too, Da! I like him!_

Charlie smiled at his father. “He likes you, dad.”

Arthur and Molly looked absolutely delighted.

“Can I touch him, Charlie?” asked Molly, giddy at the prospect.

Charlie nodded. “Careful, though, he’s from the furnace so he’s really hot.”

Molly carefully ran her fingers through Nazuri’s head and flinched a little. “Oh, he is, isn’t he?”

“Wicked,” said the twins once more.

“Oh, she’s adorable,” said Ginny, looking at Luminaria. “Look at those big eyes!”

Beside Ginny, Fleur was baby-talking in French and Luminaria laughed and preened at the attention. She allowed her nubs and fins and wing-edges to glow and everyone stood fascinated.

_She’s funny, the beautiful lady. And this one’s very powerful._

“Who? Ginny?” asked Hermione and Luminaria expressed her agreement.

“What did she say?” asked Ginny excitedly. “Is she talking about me?”

Hermione smiled at her best-friend-turned-sister. “She said you’re very powerful. And Fleur’s funny and beautiful.”

Fleur turned to Bill with a delighted look and a childish grin. “She likes me.”

“How couldn’t she?” Her husband proudly kissed her forehead.

 _Mia, they’re Fated. They’re Fated!_ Lumi shouted in her head enthusiastically.

“Yeah, Bill and Fleur are Fated,” said Hermione. “How did you know?”

 _I can see it._ Luminaria’s big eyes looked up at her with adoration. _Like you are Fated now, too._ She turned her tiny head to Charlie and Oliver. In her desire to go to Oliver, Luminaria jumped out of Hermione’s arms. Fortunately, the witch sensed it and managed to hold onto her just in time.

“Lumi! Just say if you want to go,” scolded Hermione. “If you fall, you can get very hurt!”

 _But… But… Oliver…_ the little one whined.

The family chuckled as she tried to reach her little claws to the Scot. Oliver went over to her, Adherion not leaving his side, and picked her up.

“Hullo, little lass,” he said and Hermione could hear Luminaria giggling.

“Oh, great, she has a crush on you,” said Hermione, making the family laugh.

“Bloody Salazar…” said Avienne in awe and Hermione turned to the silver-haired witch, who in turn was watching Oliver with wide eyes. “He can’t feel heat either!”

Only then did it click to Hermione and she closely watched Oliver’s hand, then his clothes. “Oli, you’re jumper’s smouldering.” Quickly, she heat-proofed his jumper. “Congratulations, your first singe!”

Oliver laughed. “Tha’s okay. Well, worth it, aren’ ye, little lass?”

Luminaria giggled again. _I like your voice. You talk different._

“Aye, a dae talk different. Am Scottish.”

Luminaria looked at Hermione. _I like him. Good choice!_

Hermione could not help but laugh, too, and told everyone what Luminaria had said.

“What about me?” asked Charlie. “Do you like me?”

 _‘Course I do, you’re my Da!_ Luminaria sounded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Charlie grinned proudly.

“Can we hold them?” asked Fred and George.

Charlie and Hermione were adamant. “NO.”

“Oh, come on!” pouted Fred.

“Whyyy?” whined George.

“Because you two are trouble,” said Charlie, “and we don’t need you teaching these two any of your tricks.”

“Tricks like this?” Fred pulled out a Sparkler Ball from his pocket, which he then threw up in the air and caught before throwing it to George, who spun it up before throwing it, resulting in a spiral ascent.

Luminaria and Nazuri were transfixed and the two immediately tried reaching for the twins.

“We’re screwed,” said Charlie.

With dragon-hide gloves and jackets put on, Fred excitably held Nazuri and George held Luminaria.

“They’re heavier than they look,” said George. “But still gorgeous, don’t you worry, little dragon.”

“And you’re far better than the Fireball Charlie used to sleep with,” said Fred.

“Charlie had a Fireball stuffed toy?” asked Harry, his face lighting up.

“Yes, he gave it up a long time ago, though,” said Percy, to whom Charlie looked gratefully at, until he added, “Since he moved to the Crèche, in fact. He’s been a very good boy not crying about it every night now.”

Everyone laughed, none harder than Oliver, though, who was cherishing the information.

“Did the stuffed toy have a name?” the Scot asked.

“Don’t you bloody dare,” said Charlie, threateningly glaring at his siblings.

“Rory-bunny,” said Molly before grinning cheekily at her son.

Oliver was clapping in absolute delight then he wrapped an arm around Charlie’s shoulders and patted his chest. “Don’t worry, mate, a’ll get ye another if ye want.”

“Too late,” said Hermione with a cheeky grin. “I got him one for Christmas. Her name is Mia-bunny.”

Laughter rang out once more. Oliver looked as if he was having the best day. Charlie wanted to be eaten by the ground he was standing on.

A tiny voice grabbed Hermione’s attention. _Mia… Is he your brother?_

Hermione looked at Luminaria and saw her staring at Harry. “Yeah, that’s my brother. How did you know?”

 _I can see the bond_ , said the little dragon. _There’s a family bond between you._

Hermione smiled and motioned for Harry to come closer. “Harry, this is Luminaria. Lumi, this is Harry Potter. She said she can see the familial bond between us.”

“Awesome.” Harry adorably grabbed Luminaria’s claw and shook it, which made George absolutely happy. “Hello, Lumi. It’s very nice to finally meet you. I’ve seen you once before, but I couldn’t get closer. And I’ve seen you in Hermione’s painting, too.”

Luminaria looked at Hermione. _He’s very powerful. He’s destined for great things._

Hermione relied onto her brother what her dragon said.

“I was hoping for a peaceful life from here on out, but that’s good, too, I guess,” said Harry.

_He and the witch will be happy together. Their children will be very powerful._

Again, Hermione repeated to the others what her dragon said.

“We’ll definitely be together then?” asked Ginny, wrapping her arms around Harry.

Hermione smiled at Luminaria’s reply. “She said yes. Your love is strong.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny as well and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“Do _we_ get our love lives foretold?” asked Fred.

“Bold of you to assume you’ll have one,” said Charlie.

“Um… Charlie? Oliver?” called a nervous voice and everyone turned to see Percy with his hands cautiously outstretched as Adherion slowly walked towards him.

Charlie put his hands on Adherion’s snout and tried to redirect his gaze from his brother, but the dragon would not budge nor did he speak. “Adherion,” he said warningly. “What’s going on, mate?”

Still the dragon continued to stalk towards Percy.

Hermione hastily took Oliver’s hand before going towards Charlie and the dragon. Meanwhile Avienne, Memphis, Adrian and three of the four Ninja Turtles placed themselves protectively in front of the rest of the family.

“Adherion, bud,” called Oliver as they slowly approached and thankfully, the Opaleye turned to him. Hermione and Oliver moved him back towards the direction of the pit and away from the family. When Oliver extended his hand, Adherion responded by placing his head onto it. Then he came closer and closed his multi-coloured eyes and leaned onto Oliver.

The Scot got down on one knee. The moment he closed his eyes and placed his forehead onto the dragon’s, Hermione could sense the magic in the air. It was as if the thick magical presence she had experienced in the cave descended. When she turned to the other dragon keepers and the family, she could see that they sensed it, too.

“Hermione…” came George’s voice and she saw Luminaria glowing in his hands.

With a gesture, as she did not want to interrupt whatever was happening, Hermione told him and Fred to put both dragons down. When they did, the little dragons crawled over to Oliver and Adherion. Like he did for Luminaria and Hermione before, Nazuri stationed himself in front of Oliver and Adherion and stood guard. Meanwhile, Luminaria kept watching on. Seconds ticked by before the glowing of her fins ebbed and her scales went back to her normal black. Then Oliver opened his eyes and gasped for breath, and the magical thrum in the air dissipated.

The moment his eyes met Hermione’s, she knew Adherion projected something onto him. “What is it?” she asked and helped him stand. Meanwhile, Adherion flopped down to the ground and Nazuri and Luminaria nuzzled onto him. The Opaleye wrapped them with a wing as though in a hug.

“Percy…” said Oliver. He seemed drained.

Hermione helped him walk over to the bespectacled redhead as the family surrounded them.

“A saw a vision,” said Oliver. “Kingsley calls ye – a have naw idea when, but a saw ye in his office and he asks fer yer help with something _very important_. A only saw a glimpse, but whatever he’s aboot tae ask ye seemed huge and he was greatly distressed by it. The next thing a knoo, the two of ye are at the Burrow and everyone’s there again. People seemed upset.”

Oliver had a thoughtful, brooding look on his face that distracted Hermione a bit before she quickly blinked and looked instead to Percy.

The bespectacled Weasley was thinking of the implications of the vision. “Is there anything I should do, then?”

Oliver shook his head. “Just wait, a suppose. Am sorry a cannae be clearer.” He took a deep breath and touched his chest. He seemed weakened by the experience and Hermione grew concerned for him. When she looked at Charlie, she knew she was not the only one.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Percy. “Thank you for telling me.”

Charlie glanced at the clock. “Everyone, the portkey will leave soon.”

Just like that, the heaviness of the vision was dispersed and the family said goodbye to the dragons, thanked the dragon keepers and embraced Charlie, Hermione and Oliver with many congratulations once again.

“Sorry for taking over your birthday breakfast,” said Hermione to Fleur.

“ _Mais, non, Cherie!_ ” said the beautiful French witch. “Ziz is ze most fantastic gift!”

Hermione chuckled. “Advanced happy birthday anyway and enjoy France!”

“ _Oui_ ,” said Fleur and lowered her voice to a whisper. “And you _enjoy_ your Fated.” With a giggle, the veela walked over to her husband.

“And if you’re up for it,” Molly was saying to Charlie and Oliver, “we have Sunday dinner tonight.” She patted Oliver’s cheek. “But only if you’re feeling better, dear.”

Oliver smiled charmingly at him. “Thank ye, Molly.”

“And you’re all welcome to join us as well,” she said to the dragon keepers before grabbing on to the Frisbee once again.

“Bye, dragons!” shouted Fred before they were all taken away.

Hermione and Charlie’s attention focused on Oliver.

“How are you feeling?” asked Hermione, while Charlie summoned a glass and conjured water then gave it for Oliver to drink. The Scot drank it all in one go.

“Am a’right,” he said. “That just took quite a bit oot af mae. Didnae expect it tae be like tha’.”

“Adherion projected a vision onto you,” said Hermione. “Has he ever done that before?”

Oliver thought back. “A think when a first saw him, he did,” he said. “A remember a saw myself flying on ma broom next tae him, but a just dismissed it as ma imagination.”

“Did you feel that power, though?” asked Michan and whistled. “Damn, that was strong.”

“That’s because they’re stronger now,” said Avienne. “If that was a vision that Adherion projected to you before, Oliver, I think the only reason you’re unsure if it was real or your imagination is because, though Adherion is a powerful dragon, the connection and bond between the two of you is not yet so strong.”

“But now,” said Memphis, picking up where she was going, “he’s Fated to Hermione, which means the bond between him and Adherion is just as strong as the bond between Hermione and Luminaria.”

“Hold on a second,” said Thell. “Oliver is Fated to Hermione. That explains how he suddenly hears the dragons and can touch them. But how come Charlie does as well?”

The dragon keepers and Oliver looked at each other. Then Hermione turned around and showed everyone the back of her neck.

“No shit!” shouted Michan.

“Is this for real?” asked Memphis.

Hermione faced them again and showed her forearm with Oliver’s name.

“Triad?” said Raphael, in absolute shock.

“Holy crap,” said Thell. “Holy fucking crap.”

Michan shook his head, unable to wrap it around what was happening. “Just how powerful are you!”

Hermione smiled in amusement and shrugged. “I’m the destined Queen of Dragons, bitches!”

***

Charlie cooked lunch while Oliver slept upstairs in his room. Adrian wanted to take his brother to his cottage, but Charlie had insisted. There were still things they needed to talk about and now that their lives were intertwined, Charlie wanted to be the one to take care of Oliver.

His head still swam at the bigness of it all. Merely yesterday, Charlie had confessed his feelings for Hermione and she agreed to give him a chance. Afterwards, they had lunch together and Charlie had felt so happy. Compared to now, however, now that he was her Fated, that happiness was nothing. Being given a chance was wonderful, but knowing he was hers and she was his, that was something out of this world entirely.

Being the oldest of them, Charlie felt somewhat responsible for the two, but if he was to be honest with himself, he did not know what to do or where to start. Well, making sure Hermione was comfortable in the pace they were going would probably be the best bet. He had to make sure she was not overthinking this and that she was comfortable enough to tell them how she was feeling. Truth be told, Charlie was well prepared to simply continue on where they have started yesterday and go from there. There was no need to rush things. They had their whole lives ahead of them. Hopefully, Hermione would also trust them enough to truly open up to them about the things she was still keeping close to her chest.

Leaving the beef and vegetable casserole to simmer, Charlie started putting together a salad to go with it and the mashed potato he had prepared earlier. There was a creak and Charlie turned to see Oliver standing by the table rubbing his eyes, his hair still a mess. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Better,” said the Scot. “Anything a can help with?”

“Nah, I’m good. Just sit down for a while. Hermione will be here in a bit.”

Oliver pulled up a chair and sat, looking around the cabin as he did. “Nice place. Definitely bigger than Adrian’s, and the view – Morgana’s tit, tha’s fucking fantastic!”

Charlie chuckled. “Absolutely. Sunrise and sunset are undoubtedly the best though.”

“Ye think Hermione’s already painted a few af those?”

Charlie turned to the Scot. “I’ve not really been inside her house much. She paints?”

“Aye. Harry said something aboot seeing her painting af Lumi earlier that it reminded me af it. Apparently, she likes painting horizons and landscapes and stuff.”

Charlie did not know that.

“And ye carve.”

“Yeah, a bit. It’s a habit I picked up in Romania. There were times we did not have much to do, so I carved. Nowadays, that’s kind of impossible with Lumi and Nazuri.”

Oliver smiled and ran his fingers through his hair. “Hey, um… Ma manager gave mae three days aff. Dae ye think Caine would let mae stay here during that time?”

Charlie nodded. “I’ve already owled a letter to Caine earlier asking if he could put your magical signature in. Given our circumstances, you should be able to come here and spend time with Hermione _and_ Adherion without us having to divulge any details to anybody else as to why. I’ve included asking for our floos to be connected to the Wood Estate. We’re limited in the number of floos we can connect with in here and only those we’ve trusted can be put down on the list, given our certainty of the security of their floos as well.”

“Thanks, mate.”

Charlie waved him off. “Hey, do you mind setting the table? This is almost done.”

Oliver stood up and Charlie told him where to get the plates and utensils when a knock came to the door.

“Door’s open,” Charlie called and Hermione came in carrying something that looked delicious.

“Hey, I made vanilla pudding for dessert,” she said with a smile.

“Brilliant!” said Charlie.

Oliver tried to pinch a strawberry off and Hermione swatted his hand.

“After dinner!” she said, making Oliver frown and Charlie laugh. The Scot kissed her on the temple anyway as she passed him by to put the dessert on Charlie’s cooling cabinet.

“Hot casserole coming through!” said Charlie as he placed the food on the table. “Mia, there’s pumpkin juice right beside you, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Hermione brought the pitcher with her to the table.

Charlie grabbed the mashed potato as Oliver pulled out Hermione’s chair and offered her the first serve before giving it to Oliver then himself. Oliver pushed the casserole over to Hermione as well before serving Charlie then himself.

“Charlie, this is good,” said Hermione and beside her Oliver moaned.

“Fuck, mate, can a eat here everyday?” he said.

Charlie chuckled. “Anytime you want. I’m glad you like it. Bill always teased me about my cooking.”

“Why?” asked Hermione.

“He says he’s better than me,” said Charlie.

“Is Bill the best cook other than mum?”

Charlie frowned. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“What aboot the twins?” asked Oliver.

“They tried beating an egg once and set the curtains on fire,” said Charlie and shook his head. “Don’t ask me how. When they first moved out, they ate nothing but fish and chips day after day until mum intervened. Now they branch out and try muggle takeaways along with any leftovers mum sends over.”

“Does Percy cook?” asked Hermione.

Charlie squinted, trying to remember. “Not very well, though still edible. The only decent thing he could make was egg – may it be poached, scrambled, sunny-side, omelette or benedict. Just those. Anything else is rubbish. But he can bake though. He made macaroons once and they were so good, it pissed Fleur off.”

“What aboot yer sister?” asked Oliver.

“Ginny can cook well enough, but her baking’s disastrous.”

“Uh-oh,” said Hermione with a smile. “How bad?”

“Ever tried one of Hagrid’s rock cakes?” said Charlie and Hermione cringed. “Bill wanted to be nice, so he took a bite. He said his teeth were never the same since.”

“Oh, no!” chuckled Hermione and turned to Oliver. “What about you? Do you cook?”

Oliver made a face. “Nae even tae save ma life. Adrian told mae the only decent thing a can dae in the kitchen is boil water and wash the dishes.”

Charlie and Hermione laughed.

Soon the food was eaten and the table tided up. Oliver exhibited his proficiency in spells by making the dishes wash themselves and Hermione’s dessert was pulled out of the cooling cabinet and enjoyed in the living room.

“Why did you look surprised earlier?” asked Charlie with a small smile on his lips at the memory.

“When?” asked Hermione, taking a bite of the dessert.

“When I came to the Burrow and Ron saw your tattoo of my name?”

The witch beside him blushed and smiled, shaking her head. “When I woke up, I went to brush my teeth and I saw Oliver’s tattoo on me, but I looked everywhere and I couldn’t find yours.” She steadily grew redder, to Charlie’s amusement. “I was so bummed out about it and I couldn’t even face you so I went straight there. Then Ron arrived and I pulled my hair out to the side and he saw the tattoo. And that’s when I realized I had your name.” She giggled. “So yeah, I was surprised about it.”

Charlie chuckled. “I freaked out and started jumping around,” he admitted. “I went to your house, but you weren’t there. I had to rush to get ready, I was so excited.”

“A completely missed it,” said Oliver, who sat perpendicular to them, and gained a laugh. “Yeah, a had a shower and a didnae see it. Only when a went tae the mirror tae shave did it finally catch ma eye.”

“Okay, you’re worse than me,” said Hermione. “At least I had a legitimate reason for not seeing it.”

“Well, ye wash yerself on muscle memory, dinnae ye?” defended Oliver, waving his spoon. “Ye just ken where yer supposed tae go.”

Charlie laughed loudly. “It’s right on your shoulder, though! And it’s not like it’s a tiny tattoo, Oli! How the hell can you see a Quaffle coming at you in a blur but not see what’s right on your body?”

Oliver shook his head at the redhead. “Oh, is tha’ right? Ye knoo what?” He waved his wand. “ _Accio_ Mia-bunny!”

The Fireball stuffed toy flew to him from Charlie’s bedroom upstairs which he then made to dance around and flap its wings in front of Charlie. Hermione was rolling on the couch in laughter.

“Prick!” Charlie called out and snatched the stuffed toy sitting it between him and Hermione. “I’m gonna get stories from Adrian, just you wait.”

“A was an adorable wean,” said Oliver. “Ye go right ahead.”

Hermione took the Fireball and hugged it. For a moment, Charlie just watched her. She said she was bummed out when she thought she did not have his name. That was progress, wasn’t it? That was good. It meant she was truly opening up to whatever she felt for him.

“How do you think we should go?” asked Hermione, looking at him and Oliver. “I told everyone to keep it quiet, but how are we going to do this?”

“We go by your pace,” said Charlie and Oliver nodded his agreement. “If you want us to slow this down, get used to it, spend time with each other first, that’s what we’ll do.”

“Aye,” said the Scot. “And dinnae be afraid tae tell us where yer at. Call the shots, we have naw problems with tha’.”

Hermione thought about it. “What about who we tell? Because I’m not sure about letting the whole world know about us yet.”

“Completely agree,” said Oliver. “Personally, a wouldnae mind it if ye put Glamour on ma name.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Glamour applies to this magic?”

“Only partially,” said Charlie. “You cannot completely cover it up, but you can blur the name.”

“Here,” said Oliver and pointed his wand at his tattoo. “ _Abscondo_.”

Hermione’s name on his clavicle thinned and blurred until it looked as smoke.

“Well, that would make things easier,” said Hermione then Oliver cast a “ _Finite_ ” to make her name pop out once more.

“If you want to tell your friends, you can,” said Charlie. “The people we work with in the Crèche knows already anyway, so that’s us covered. Caine knows. Oliver’s manager knows. Who else?”

“A might tell some af the lads,” said Oliver. “But nae just yet.”

Hermione leaned her head on Mia-bunny. “Sooner or later, the world will know. It’s inevitable.”

“True,” said Charlie, wrapping an arm around her for comfort. “But Oliver and I will make sure that you’ll be safe through it all.”

“Nae that people who knoo what this means will disrespect our relationship anyway,” said Oliver. “Perhaps those who dinnae ken much about relationships in the wizarding world will raise an eyebrow because we’re a triad, but none will dare stand in the way af the Fated. It’s much tae rare a magic and much tae sacred a thing fer anyone tae disrespect.”

“But not everyone knows about it,” said Hermione. “And what? Are we… official now?”

Oliver held her hand. “What dae ye want?”

Hermione played with their hands with a smile on her face first before nodding her head. She could feel her cheeks burning red and her stomach was aflutter, but she was at peace with it.

Charlie kissed her shoulder and Oliver kissed her hand.

“When it comes to being Fated,” said Charlie, “every single witch and wizard will be told by those around them to treat it with respect. You can count on that.”

“Sensationalism will be our biggest hurdle, then,” said Hermione. “And pesky reporters who’ll try to put their noses into our business. One particular reporter comes to mind.”

“Harry said he’ll take care of Skeeter,” said Charlie.

“A dinnae ken what the lad has cooking,” said Oliver, “but am pretty sure a’ll be terrified once a figure it oot.”

Hermione smiled and moved over to his side so she could lean against his shoulder. Oliver wrapped his arm around her while Charlie put her feet up on his lap and began to massage it.

“I know what he’s up to,” she said.

“What?” asked the two.

There was an unmistakeable twinkle of mischief in her eyes, but Hermione simply tapped her nose and did not say any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that. We'll have "three days" off with our new triad next chapter and, therefore, a lot of fluff. That's something to look forward to, right? See you in a few days :)


	30. With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this fic is not mine. Fallin' is originally by Janno Gibbs, but what I have envisioned in this fic was sung by Ruth Anna, a beautiful cover.
> 
> Anyhoo, very sorry I haven't had a chance to reply to comments since the other chapter. Will get on that soon tomorrow. But let's get to this story.

Hermione woke up with the biggest smile on her face. She had the best sleep and dreamed of showing Oliver and Charlie through the house she grew up in. There was no sign of her parents in her dream, but there was a sense of _home_ as Hermione showed her Fated her old room and her old favourite things – her books, her medals and certificates, the old chemistry set and the microscope that her father got her for her tenth birthday. Smiling as she remembered the memory and the feeling of that dream, Hermione went downstairs and pulled out a certain CD before putting it on the player. She turned the volume way up and began to dance and sing along as _Crazy Little Thing Called Love_ played on.

It was absolutely crazy, thought Hermione, what happiness she felt right now. She was walking on air. The birds were singing. The trees were swaying. The sky was – well, the sky was grey – but that did not make it any less beautiful. She sang to the top of her lungs as she made her fruit smoothie and wiggled around dancing while she drank. Then she sang some more as _Somebody to Love_ played on while she donned on her running gear.

When she was clothed in lightweight long sleeves, running tights and her trainers, Hermione tied up her long hair in a ponytail. She determined to have it cut a bit and soon. It was to her tailbone now.

Turning off her music, Hermione left the house and found a surprise waiting for her on the porch in the shape of a gorgeous Scotsman. “Good morning,” she said, a little startled.

Oliver smiled that smile she loved. “Sure is,” he replied and went to her, first kissing her cheek. “ _Very_ good morning.”

“That it is,” said Hermione with a besotted smile.

Oliver rubbed his nose against hers as he placed his hands on her waist. “And what got ye so happy this morning?”

“Oh, a dinnae ken,” teased Hermione, placing her hands at the back of his neck and running her fingers through his hair. “Something to do with this gorgeous Scot and my redheaded neighbour.”

Oliver chuckled and pulled her close. “A could hear ye singing in there.”

“Could you?”

“Mm-hmm…if ye need a volunteer, ye can always love mae.”

Hermione was gone. That was it. Happiness had killed her and this was paradise.

Then Oliver kissed her and she realized: no, _that_ was paradise. Her senses were taken over by him – his touch, his kiss, his scent of rainforest and sandalwood.

Here and now, Hermione realized, being with Oliver was like standing in the eye of the storm. She was safe but his touch caused a tumultuous uproar inside of her. She could not focus, her emotions were unrestrained and his intensity brought something out of her. _More_. She wanted more of him.

In a moment of perception, Hermione became cognisant of the fact that she had grabbed a fistful of Oliver’s hair and their kiss had turned bruising. She instantly slowed down and observed that once again, Oliver had taken her breath away. When they parted, all she could hear was the heavy sound of her thundering heartbeat.

“Damn…” whispered Oliver. “Ye really are something else, Miss Granger.”

Merlin, if Hermione passed out right now, she would be pissed! Swallowing spit and catching her breath, Hermione slowly disentangled herself from the Scot and smiled. “I believe I was promised a running partner?”

“Aye, if a ever catch ma breath, ye’ll have wan.”

For the first time in her life, Hermione understood the empowerment that bruised lips and messed-up hair could give her. With unfettered confidence, she strutted down the steps and began to walk away. “Hurry up, Mister Keeper. I wouldn’t want your team to think you’ve gone slack just because you’re not with them.”

With a still-dazed look on his face and a crooked smile, Oliver ran to catch up with her.

Hermione ran up a familiar path in the mountain. She would always take this route when she ran and known it to be safe and secure, away from any nearby dragon territory. They stopped to stretch after a few minutes before running again further up where Hermione had discovered a small clearing. There was a bent tree that one could sit on and see the Reserve in all its glory and that was where Hermione took her Fated.

“Look, over there.” Hermione pointed out towards the west. “You see that massive cave near the bottom? That’s the Horntails’ den. And you see that waterfall? That has a lovely pool at the bottom that flows into a stream that runs throughout the valley of the Reserve. That stream nurtures the lush vegetation we have here and quenches the thirsts of the animals.”

“Animals?” asked Oliver.

Hermione began to stretch. “Oh, yeah, we have a whole ecosystem here. There are squirrels, rabbits, possums and foxes. Also sheep, goats, cows, the like.”

Oliver was surprised. “A dinnae ken tha’.”

Hermione smiled. “The dragons have to hunt something.”

“Makes sense.” Oliver tucked a lock of hair behind Hermione’s ear and smiled, then began to stretch as well. “Have ye ever painted this view?”

“Yeah, I have. It was the view of the sunrise. I gave one to Mandy for Christmas. I think she’s got it up in her office.”

Oliver nodded. “Hey, can a ask ye something?”

“Anything.”

“What was it like, talking tae Eimhir?” He looked a little shy and Hermione found it so adorable. “A’ve imagined it soo differently in ma heid, but when a heard Adherion…” A look of disbelief and awe shone in his face. “It was like a was a kid again, hearing ma mother tell the story. Only it was real and it was happening tae mae.”

Hermione smiled and sat down on the bent trunk. “To be honest, I was surprised. She was in my head!” She laughed. “Eimhir was regal and very wise. She was direct but not unkind. She did not let me get away with things or run from my turmoil, instead she made me face them head on, but did not let me face it alone.

“I was in front of the manor like it was when you first took me there. There was snow everywhere and I went to the fountain, just like I did when we went. Then suddenly, I heard her wings and she descended as graceful as anything I’ve ever seen. She was huge, Oli. Taller and longer than the Ridgeback even. She was poised and her face was slender, thinner around the jaw than, say, Brynjar.”

“Ye’ve met Brynjar?”

Hermione nodded, absolutely adoring the way her usually calm and collected Fated was wide-eyed and childlike. “The same time I met Herlief and his Fated, I met Brynjar and his mates.”

Oliver had to sit down; his head was spinning. “This is absolutely fucking fantastic!”

A chuckle came out of Hermione. “Eimhir was graceful with every movement. She reminded me of a hippogriff, actually – regal, majestic, proud. I could see how Rowena would be by the way Eimhir held herself.” She shook her head. “She called me ‘youngling’. I told her my name and she acknowledged it, but still she called me ‘youngling’.”

Oliver chuckled. “And Herlief? Hoo was he like?”

“Big, strong, formidable.”

“A thought soo.”

“But also fatherly.”

Oliver lifted an eyebrow and Hermione knew he was caught in surprise by it just like she was.

“He was a good mentor, a trusting confidant. He made me feel at ease and not pressured. He was like a father giving advice.”

“What did he give ye advice aboot?”

Hermione felt herself blush slightly. “You and Charlie.”

A crooked smile made its way to Oliver’s lips and Hermione decided she kind of liked this smile, too. “What aboot mae and Charlie?”

“He and I were a lot alike, Herlief said. We were both Fated to two. He gave me advice on how to sort through my feelings.” She giggled. “He told me how he fell in love with Eira and Brenna.”

Oliver sighed and looked up at the heavens. “Tae hear it straight frae his mooth… Merlin’s bollocks and Morgana’s left tit...”

Hermione howled in laughter and wrapped her arms around Oliver’s waist and he slung his arm on her shoulders. “Maybe one day we’ll get a pensieve and I’ll show you.”

Oliver turned his face to her and made a face, pretending to think about it. Damn, the man was adorable, so Hermione kissed his cheek.

“Ye missed ma lips,” he said and kissed her again.

When they parted, Hermione was sure this time, she had the dazed look.

Further to their right, a dragon roar was heard and they both turned. Oliver had wide eyes, but Hermione simply smiled.

“That’s Reinmar,” she said. “I’ve grown quite fond of him.”

“Reinmar?”

“The Norwegian Ridgeback.”

Oliver’s brows furrowed. “Ye’ve groon fond af a mature, fire-breathing dragon?”

“Wyvern,” corrected Hermione but nodded nonetheless. “We have a history.”

“Oh, dae ye?” Based on his sarcasm, Hermione would guess Oliver was freaking out a little. He had only ever met the young ones and Hermione was guessing he was concerned about her being near a gigantic wyvern that breathed fire up to thirty feet.

“Yeah, see, the night I came home from your place, someone was waiting for me here.”

“Who?”

Hermione held his hand with one of hers, while the other traced circles on it. “Ron’s mistress,” she said. She tried to analyse if there was still pain there and smiled when she found none. She was healed of that wound. “She and I talked, I found out she was pregnant.”

Oliver squeezed her hand. “Am sorry.”

She looked at his gorgeous eyes and shrugged. “I’m not. Not anymore.” She gave him a reassuring smile, which Oliver returned. “At that time, though, I finally broke down. I cried it all out for the first time since I ended the relationship and I just didn’t want to be here. Reinmar heard my cry and he swooped down to get me and brought me to his territory. He roared out my pain like he felt it himself and gave me comfort. Charlie found me soon after. Once the tears stopped, this relief took over me. It was like a huge burden slid off my shoulders. That’s when I decided to get a tattoo. I wanted something on me that would signify change. Lumi came to mind. Whatever it was she was bringing in my life, I welcomed it there and then.”

Oliver gallantly kissed the back of her hand, seeming to calm. “Then am glad Reinmar was there fer ye.”

Hermione kept playing with his hand. “Would you like to meet him?” She tried to gauge his reaction.

The Scot took a deep breath, considered it, then finally nodded.

The Ridgeback’s territory was further up the eastern mountains. There, he had made for himself a roost in a clearing from uprooted trees. As Hermione and Oliver slowly approached, they heard someone call their names but could see no one around. Then Oliver looked up and pointed something out at Hermione.

“Dae ye see tha’? There’s something shimmering up the tree there.”

True enough, up a gigantic cedar tree was a circular shimmering. Depending on the angle of the light, it would shine perfectly spherical before disappearing once more. It must have been a treehouse with a Notice-Me-Not Charm where the dragon keepers spent their time. Then out of nowhere, Adrian’s head appeared, frightening the two before making them laugh.

“What the hell, Ade?” said Hermione.

“Dinnae ‘what the hell’ mae,” said the older Wood. “What the hell are _ye_ doin’ here?”

Hermione shrugged. “I want to see Reinmar.”

Ardy’s head appeared. “Who?”

“Hoo many af ye are up there?” asked Oliver.

“None af yer business,” said his brother. “Go back the way ye came.”

Hermione pouted. “No.” And kept walking. She heard Oliver chuckle and his brother curse.

“Oli, a swear,” warned Adrian.

“A cannae leave her here,” said Oliver. “See ye.”

“Damn it, Oli!”

Oliver caught Hermione’s hand as they walked further on and a few seconds later, they heard a whoosh that came from a speeding broom before Adrian materialized before them.

“A told ye two tae go back –”

A bigger whoosh sounded followed by a thud and Reinmar landed a few meters from them. Adrian immediately dropped off his broom and positioned himself in front of his brother and Hermione, taking his wand out. However, Hermione held his arm back, her eyes glued to the wyvern before them. Slowly, she walked forward, ignoring Adrian’s warnings.

 _The youngling is protective_ , said a deep, old voice that sounded in Hermione’s head and she smiled, fascinated by the timbre of it.

“Adrian is Oliver’s brother,” said Hermione and Adrian turned to her. “He worries.”

The wyvern emitted a guttural purr. _He knows my ways more than most._

“Perhaps that’s why he worries.” Hermione sensed the wyvern’s amusement and smiled, too. “Will you give him cause?”

The wyvern took a few steps back and sat down on the many dried leaves that covered his territory. For a while, he simply observed the three of them there.

“What is he saying?” asked Adrian.

“Nothing,” said Hermione. “But he did say you know him more than most. He didn’t say, but I think he’s fond of you.”

The old wyvern gave a short chortle. _He knows when to leave me be and when to come near_ , he said. _The youngling is a good balance between a head full of fantasy and a mind full of wisdom._

“Quite the compliment,” said Hermione. She squeezed Adrian’s arm and walked forward. “May I ask you a question?”

The beast inclined his head and kept his big yellow eyes on Hermione.

“Why did you come for me?” she asked. “You comforted me that night. Why?”

 _I know the pain_ , said the old wyvern. _I understand the crushing grief and the unbearable heartache of a soul in turmoil._

“How?”

_I once had a human who cared for me as the youngling does now. Caitriona was her name, a gentle soul. She bore a child whom she loved, but the child was taken from her by great tragedy – another human whose soul was impure. The loss of the child broke my human and upon seeing her body, Caitriona screamed just as you did._

“But I didn’t scream,” said Hermione.

The wyvern lowered his face so he was eye-level with her. _We scream with the fire we pour into the skies._

The realization of his meaning made Hermione breathe in deep as she remembered the conversation she once had with Charlie. It was a dragon’s instinct to emit fire into the sky to release emotion, similar to when a human would scream. “Why did I do that?”

 _Because you are fire… my destined Queen._ The old wyvern bowed his head low before turning it to the direction of the brothers. Without warning, he stood up and walked towards them. Hermione followed side by side with him.

“Hermione, what is he doing?” asked Adrian cautiously.

The wyvern stopped walking a few meters away from the brothers as to not scare them but Hermione continued until she was beside Oliver.

“This is my Fated,” she said and held his hand with a smile. “Oliver, this is Reinmar.”

“Pleased tae meet ye,” said Oliver.

 _An honour_ , replied Reinmar and bowed his head again. _Rider._

Oliver smiled. “A want tae thank ye fer comforting Hermione. Am only sorry a couldnae be there, but am glad she wasnae alone.”

Hermione could sense Reinmar’s humility at the gratitude. _Whenever she needs me, I will come. Now, farewell._ The great wyvern turned around and, when he was a safe distance away, breathed fire to the ground before lying down on it.

Hermione pulled the brothers away. She had a smile on her face as they walked.

“What?” asked Oliver, who was looking at her.

“I didn’t know he was old,” she said and they both chuckled. “He didn’t seem old.”

“Hoo can ye really tell?” asked Oliver. “It’s nae like they have wrinkles.”

Hermione giggled before she noticed Adrian. She nudged him with her shoulder. “Are you all right? That wasn’t too scary for you, was it?”

The older Scot huffed with a smile. “Was he talking aboot mae?”

“Yes,” she replied. “He said you are a good balance between a head full of fantasy and a mind full of wisdom. You know when to leave him alone and when to come near. He likes you.”

Adrian grinned. “Ye knoo, the dragons have been behaving a lot lately.”

Hermione smiled. “Eimhir said they would.”

Adrian’s head whipped to her. “Ye met Eimhir?”

“She met Herlief and Brynjar, tae,” said Oliver.

Adrian’s jaw dropped.

***

Charlie watched the drizzle come through the Reserve with Nazuri perched on his lap. They were by the steps of the Bay with the stone doors wide open. At the moment, it was only him, Hermione and Oliver in the Crèche and as he looked down at the tiny Fireball that was fascinatingly watching the rain outside, Charlie could not help but be grateful. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine things to turn around like this. With everything he and Hermione had gone through, there was always something special between then. But now, in the last couple of days, he cherished how he, Hermione and Oliver flowed peacefully together. They wove in and around each other like flowing water, and it was good to see they how they were beginning to find home in each other. More than that, Charlie found himself dreaming of what the future would hold. Would they have children? Did Hermione and Oliver want a big family? Would their children grow up around these magnificent dragons or would they have to move?

Fingers combed through his hair and Charlie looked up to amber-flecked chocolate eyes and the beautiful smile of his Fated. “You look content,” said Hermione.

Charlie took her hand and kissed it before pulling her to sit on his leg. “I am. Life’s good.”

She brushed away the hair away from his face. “It is, isn’t it?”

Between them Nazuri purred. _Put me down, Da._

“We say ‘please’, Nazuri,” said Hermione.

 _Please, please_.

Charlie chuckled and put him down. “Careful not to fall, Naz, okay?”

_Yes, Da._

Hermione leaned her head onto Charlie’s as they watched the little Fireball slowly back himself down one step and then another.

“Where’s Oli, by the way?” asked Charlie.

“In the office, amusing Lumi.”

He looked into the glass wall and true enough, the Scot was conjuring water here and there for the little glowing dragon. Charlie chuckled. “He might quit Quidditch soon.”

Hermione giggled. “Might be a possibility. He’s experiencing everything he ever heard in stories as a kid.”

Charlie chuckled, too, and turned his eyes on Hermione. “What’s the plan, by the way?”

“Hmm?”

“After tomorrow, Oli goes back to Wales. In two weeks, they’ve got a game, so he has to be there to train with the team. I’m pretty sure he’ll miss you like crazy and you’ll miss him, too.”

Hermione bit her lip in thought. “If it’s just about communication, I may have a solution. But as for personally seeing each other… that’s where I’m stomped.”

“What solution has the brightest witch of her age come to?”

Hermione giggled at his teasing and began to play with his hair. “It’s one of the products the twins are testing. We’re calling it InstaChat, where we can instantly deliver letters to each other without the need for owls.”

Charlie’s brows shot up. “Wow, that’s something.”

Hermione looked proud. “I suppose we can always visit him, watch his games, too.”

“Will that be enough for you, though? We get to see each other every day and you only see him every two, three weeks?”

She pouted. “A dinnae ken. I’ll have to keep thinking about it.”

Charlie nodded and they watched Nazuri slowly hobble closer to the doors. The rain was stronger now and angled inwards, so it began to patter on the little dragon. Nazuri leapt backwards, wiping his face with his tiny claws, before slowly inching forwards again. This time, he seemed to be prepared for the sensation of water.

A chuckle left Hermione and Charlie as they watched him beat his wings against the water.

“Enjoying yourself?” called Hermione.

 _Mum, look! Look!_ He flapped his wings and water splashed everywhere. _Da, did you see? Did you see me?_

“I see you,” said Charlie.

“He’s having fun,” said Oliver as he came towards them with Lumi in hand.

“That he is,” said Charlie.

Nazuri began to call excitedly. _Lumi, look! Look at it!_

In Oliver’s arms, Lumi quickly became enthusiastic as well. “Naw jumping, please, Lumi,” said Oliver and the little one behaved long enough for the Scot to bring her down to the ground. Then the little dragon joined Nazuri as quick as she could in splashing about in the rain.

Meanwhile, Hermione had her jaw completely slack in shock.

“Oli, I think you broke our Fated,” commented Charlie.

“How – how did – but – she behaved!” squealed Hermione.

Oliver sat beside Charlie. “Aye, she did.”

“She didn’t jump or anything!”

Oliver nodded. “Aye, she didnae.”

Hermione looked at Charlie in disbelief and he closed her mouth for her. The little witch swatted his hand and Charlie laughed.

“Why? What’s the matter?” asked Oliver.

“Usually, Lumi just jumps out of our arms and we have to hurry to catch her,” said Charlie.

Hermione frowned and wrapped her arms around Charlie’s neck before flopping her head on his shoulder. “This is favouritism. I object.”

“Nazuri would only sleep with you for however long,” he pointed out. “And the others are still finding it hard to get them to sleep.”

“I gave them a CD player for Christmas to play music,” said Hermione. “That made it a bit better.”

Oliver turned to them. “If they would only sleep when ye sing, hoo come yer nae at nightshift?”

“They’re newborns,” said Charlie. “They’re constantly waking and sleeping throughout the night and day. When they get to about four to five months old, that’s when the sleeping patterns start to stick.”

“Ahh…” Oliver looked at the red and black dragons once more. “Adrian’s only ever assigned tae the groon up dragons, soo a never hear this side af the story.”

Lightning flashed across the sky and both dragons froze. This was their first time experiencing rain and lightning. Usually, whenever it rained and snowed, they were kept inside in the warmth, but now that Nazuri was two months old and could handle himself better, it was good for him and his immunity to experience the elements. Under normal circumstances, Lumi would not be allowed off the furnace yet for this long a time, but the little dragon was stronger than most and could keep up with Nazuri without a problem.

 _Mum, what was that?_ Nazuri asked. He tilted his head and looked up at the sky.

Thunder roared and the two dragons jumped up in fright before they cried. Hermione and Charlie quickly ran over to them and picked them up. Lumi nuzzled on Hermione’s chest, still whimpering, while Nazuri hid himself under Charlie’s chin, shaking.

“It’s all right, it’s just thunder,” said Hermione softly.

 _It’s a roar_ , argued Nazuri, his voice frightened.

“No, baby, it’s just thunder. It comes after lightning.”

_No, it’s a roar! Who is it?_

Charlie hummed a low, soothing note to calm the little Fireball, as Hermione swayed and caressed Lumi.

“It’s the sky, little one,” said Hermione. “When there’s a storm, the rain comes and so does lightning and thunder. At first, the lightning and thunder are far apart. But the thunder loves the lightning so much, he runs to catch up with her. That’s why you see lightning flash across the sky first and after her, the thunder calls. If you count, you’ll hear the thunder catch up every time.”

Another lightning flashed in the sky and the tiny dragons clung more to their bonded. Lumi covered her head with her wing.

“One, two, three…” Hermione began to count as she comforted her little one and Charlie counted with her. When they got to ten, the thunder sounded.

 _It’s so loud, Mia_ , said Lumi. _Why is it so loud?_

“In the days af auld,” said Oliver, coming to stand between them, “there was a dragon called the Dragon af Thunder. White as a flash af lightning, she was and when she roared, the heavens would quake.” He ran his fingers up and down Lumi’s spine and played with Nazuri’s tail. “Legend says she learned tae roar frae listening tae the skies when it rained.”

 _What’s legend mean?_ Nazuri asked, peeking beneath Charlie’s beard.

“Stories,” said Oliver. “Very auld stories.”

Lightning flashed again, several times, across the skies.

“One, two, three…” This time, all three of them counted. When they reached seven, the thunder roared.

Nazuri poked his head out of Charlie’s chin, no longer shaking. _He’s catching up!_ His voice conveyed excitement now.

“Yes, he is,” said Hermione and Lumi slowly lifted her head and lowered her wing. “Look at the sky, Lumi. Watch where the lightning runs.”

Big green eyes looked up and cautiously watched the heavens.

Lightning flashed, marking the grey skies with branching white glow. Again, the three began to count. When they reached four, the thunder clapped.

Nazuri was getting excited. _What happens when the thunder catches the lightning, mum?_

Hermione smiled. “They dance, of course.”

This time, Nazuri used Charlie’s forearm to lean out to see the lightning. Lumi, on the other hand, had lowered her wing, but still wrapped it around Hermione’s arm. Charlie could see her adorable claw holding onto Oliver’s finger and her tail wrapped around his wrist.

Once more, lightning flashed. When they counted, they reached to two and thunder rolled. The anticipation of the two little dragons skyrocketed, and after an instant, lightning began to gleam behind the thick clouds. Here and there, it flashed and thunder accompanied it in rolling roars as rain poured all the more.

The three observed the two dragons as they watched a thunderstorm for the first time, as fascinated by their reaction as the dragons were to the storm. Louder and louder, the thunder roared, but it brought no more fear, just enchantment to the little ones.

Nazuri began to roar as well, copying the thunder, and soon little Lumi followed his lead. Charlie watched with utter fascination, and amusement, as the two let out their roars, as though challenging the skies yet learning from it at the same time.

Charlie’s eyes flitted to Hermione and Oliver, and his heart felt full to see them so happy.

Later that night, as the rain continued its downpour, Charlie sat with Oliver and Hermione in his cottage, drinking tea. Hermione had brought her guitar and started playing a soft melody on it. As she played, Charlie marked the smile on her face and the blush she tried to hide. He noted the sparkle in her eyes and the way she bit her lip. He regarded the way she seemed to hold her breath and how she inhaled and sighed. And he found himself wanting to know the reason why.

Oliver bid them goodnight shortly and, with one last kiss to Hermione, went upstairs. Charlie could not find the will to move away now, but he did see the way Hermione’s eyes looked at him as though she had a secret she wanted to tell.

“What is it?” he asked, setting his cup down at the side table.

Hermione smiled again, her blush deepening. “Do you like it?”

Charlie nodded.

“I wrote it the week before you told me how you felt.”

“You wrote it?”

She nodded.

“Will you sing it for me?”

She did.

_Our little conversations_

_Are turning into little sweet sensations_

_And they’re only getting sweeter every time_

_Our friendly get-together_

_Are turning into visions of forever_

_If I just believe this foolish heart of mine_

_I can’t pretend that I’m just a friend_

_And I’m thinking maybe we were meant to be_

_I think I’m fallin’, fallin’ in love with you_

_And I don’t, I don’t know what to do_

_I’m afraid you’d turn away_

_But I’ll say it anyway…_

_I think I’m fallin’ for you_

_I’m fallin’ for you…_

Charlie moved up the couch and sat next to her. He ran the back of his fingers along her jaw and down her neck, as his eyes took in her features, her beauty in firelight, her lips… Charlie leaned in but did not kiss her just yet. He waited, his nose touching hers, his fingers caressing her neck. When Hermione closed her eyes and leaned in, too, Charlie allowed his lips to touch hers.

The guitar silenced, the rain pouring, the fire cracking, Charlie allowed himself to get lost in the sparks that was his Fated. She tasted like innocence and honey, and kissed like the dancing flame of a candle against his lips; light yet bore heat.

Hermione moved the guitar away and Charlie took it from her and placed it behind him. And he kissed her, wanting to show her all the things he had held back before. He wanted to pour into her the longing and the happiness he’d felt for her. And he kissed her, receiving the sweet, sweet passion she willingly gave to him.

When they parted, Charlie swore he had melted. He opened his eyes and watched as amber-flecked chocolate eyes slowly opened for him, too.

“Hi…” she said.

“Hi…” he said.

Hermione ran her fingers down his beard to his chest and rested her hand just above his heart, where her name resided. “Would it be all right if I told you I’m falling for you?”

Charlie felt as though he could burst with joy. “Yes.”

“Good… because I’m falling for you…”

Charlie kissed her again, pulling her close, letting his hand trail up her back to where his name lay on her skin. She was his, this woman. She was his in every way. And he belonged to her. From the shoulders she had cried onto, the arms and hands that held her, and the body that wanted her, to the love he had solely for her, the wisdom he had that inspired in her, the heart that beat for her… Charlie knew he was hers.

When they parted, Charlie kissed her neck and whispered in her ear. “I am in love with you, Mia.”

Hermione sighed, kissed his jaw and held him tight.

***

After another morning run with Hermione, Oliver enjoyed yet another breakfast cooked by Charlie and swore he was getting spoiled. Yesterday had been amazing. He had heard a great dragon talk and watched how Hermione interacted with him with respect that Reinmar showed right back. This was not something he even imagined as a child. When he was a wean, Oliver and Adrian always played Vikings. They would imagine what it was like to fly on the back of a dragon and how to fight alongside one as they saw depicted on the paintings of the manor. But to do something as simple as to talk eye-to-eye with a dragon that was centuries old and walk peacefully side by side with him, that baffled Oliver to no end.

They had also spent the whole day in the Crèche with the two newborns. Oliver entertained Luminaria with magic and she looked at him as eager as any student. He had also gotten to play with Nazuri, who was as mischievous as Charlie had told him. But what Oliver would forever remember was the way Hermione had settled their fears by telling them of the lightning and the thunder. He had never thought about that before, but what an amazing way it was to turn the little ones’ fears into excitement and joy. As they stood watching the dragons roar at the sky, Oliver remembered wondering to himself if Hermione would be just as smart, calm and collected taking care of their children. That was something they had not yet discussed and Oliver did not know what Charlie and her plans were, or even if they wanted a big family, but Oliver found himself hoping for it. Maybe not right then and there, but in the future. He could see himself around red-haired and brown-haired children.

“What are you smiling at?”

Oliver looked up from the playbook he had brought along in the Crèche into the amused blue eyes of Charlie Weasley. “What?”

“You’re smiling at your book,” said Charlie, leaning at railing of the pit beside him. He looked over to see what was on the book and laughed. “And it’s half an empty page. Are you all right? Nazuri fried your brain?”

Oliver play punched him on the arm. “Naw, ye numptie. A was just thinking aboot something.” He shrunk the playbook and put it in his pocket.

“What? You miss Damian?”

“Keon.”

“I knew you were into redheads!”

The two of them laughed loudly, gaining glances from Avienne and Hermione on the other side of the pit who were talking about research. Meanwhile, in the pit, Lumi and Nazuri were enjoying hopping over small twigs and scratching the logs so that the bark would chip off.

“What were you thinking that got you so happy, then?” asked Charlie.

Oliver shrugged a shoulder. “A just… never thought a’d get tae feel this way,” he said and half-smiled. “All ma life, Charlie, Quidditch was ma only concern. Ever since a learnt af the sport, a knew tha’s what a wanted tae dae with ma life. A dated here and there, but never had anything stick and noo…” He shook his head in disbelief. “Noo, a think a literally cannae live withoot her. And am soo fucking happy, a dinnae ken what tae dae with maself.”

Beside him, Charlie chuckled but nodded his head in agreement. “I feel the same way. As long as I had my dragons, I was fine. My family was close by now and I got to see them every day and I was content. Then she walks in and blows have the windows in St. Mungo’s and I see her scar and learn everything she went through, and all of a sudden, I’m tethered to something else. All of a sudden, my priority was someone else. But fuck it if I wasn’t happy she chose dragons and worked with me.”

Oliver chuckled. “Lucky bastard.”

Charlie put his arm around the Scot’s shoulders. “What are your plans, Oli? How are we going to do this thing?”

Oliver took a deep breath. “Am gaunnae ask ma manager fer flexibility on accommodation and a want tae ask fer yer help. Maybe a could stay here a few days a week?”

“Caine’s already added your magical signature in as well as the Wood manor floo into both our cabins. I think that’s a go-ahead from him if I ever see one.” Charlie sniggered. “He’s still a little pissed at me, though, for telling him nothing was going on with me and Hermione and a week later, we’re Fated.”

They laughed once more and heard a squawk from the two playing dragons in the pit.

 _You can be lightning, Lumi, and I can be your thunder_ , said Nazuri, as he hopped from one rock to the next as he roared.

 _Oh, I know how I’ll be lightning_ , said Luminaria and made her fins and wing-edges glow. _See? This is the lightning and my scales can be the dark clouds._

 _Do the colours, do the colours!_ Nazuri flapped his wings excitedly.

Lumi tilted her head. _But you_ can’t _see the colours during the lightning, Nazuri._

_But it’s preeettttty._

_It’s – not – accurate!_

Charlie and Oliver laughed once more.

“She’s definitely Hermione’s dragon.”

“Naw doubt aboot it.”

As the little dragons ran around chasing each other, Oliver turned to the redhead again. “D’ye think we’d get tae see Adherion tadae?”

“He’s not up for a check-up until Thursday, but…” Charlie considered it. “How about come lunch time we take the dragons to the cafeteria and on the way back we get lost and end up in their den?”

“Where’s their den?”

“On the side of the north-eastern mountains, by the lake.”

“Soo, the exact opposite af the Crèche?”

“Well, _you_ don’t know the Reserve. Maybe you get us lost.”

“Yer terrible at planning things.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll contact Nicky, see if he can help us.” He began to make his way to the office.

Oliver smiled, amused, and called back to the redhead. “A appreciate it!”

“I better get good seats for your next game!” shouted Charlie.

Chuckling, Oliver glanced back over at Hermione and could not help but admire her. Was it a coincidence, the Scot wondered, that both he and Charlie never truly thought of being in a relationship until this moment? He did not think so. He dated Katie Bell for a while as well as a Ravenclaw Seeker, Sienna Normadie, but neither lasted; his focus and his life was Quidditch. He did try again when he got out of school. One could not be friends with Damian Lazarev without learning a few things one should not, or go to a pub without being introduced to a bird or a groupie. But somehow, Oliver never really managed to focus on that aspect of his life. He was twenty-three, for Morgana’s sake! But now…

Oliver looked at his Fated and smiled. He appreciated everything about her. When they first met after the war, she was in jeans and flats, not because she liked them but because she needed to be prepared to run, to fight, to survive. She wore long sleeves and hoodies, layers upon layers to hide herself and her scars. Slowly, Oliver saw her begin to change, not just in her clothing, but in her attitude and mind-set as well. Her confidence began to bloom, she began to dress nicely, and she slowly became proud of who she was and what she had been through, embracing in herself what other people would shun and have shunned.

Now, Oliver carefully observed her. Hermione’s posture screamed self-assured, her gaze certain, her self-esteem and self-worth intact. Oliver was sure there would be times when Charlie and he would have to reassure her again, just like there would be times where he would need her to do the same, but he was proud of where she was now.

Today, Hermione wore a short but modest maroon dress with black tights and ankle boots. It was three-quarter sleeve and had a collar, which Oliver guessed she wore to hide her Fated tattoos. Not that he minded. Her hair was half braided intricately and the rest fell down to her back. Oliver was just thinking he wanted to run his fingers through it when Hermione turned to him, tilted her head and smiled as though wondering if he was okay. Oliver nodded and watched as blush crept through her cheeks when she turned back to Avienne.

Oliver decided to stop staring. He was distracting her and, Merlin forbid, Avienne would notice. Instead, he made his way down to the two dragons. They were squealing and laughing and flapping their wings about as though they were about to take flight.

 _Oli, help, help!_ Luminaria called and laughed.

Nazuri roared, stomping his tiny feet as he pursued her.

“What’s this then?” asked Oliver. “Is the thunder coming?”

 _Yes!_ They both chorused.

Luminaria whipped her tail about.

“A flash af lightning!” cried Oliver as he sat cross-legged on the ground and pretended to shield his eyes. “It’s soo bright!”

The two laughed in delight and Luminaria jumped on his leg. She tried to climb him but Nazuri caught her and they jumped around as they held each other’s claws, their wings clumsily flapping and being dragged on the ground.

“Are ye dancing noo?” asked Oliver.

 _Yes!_ They said again.

 _Da was dancing with mum like this_ , said Nazuri.

“Careful, ye’ll trip on yer wings,” said Oliver.

Sure enough, they both tried to spin around and got their legs tangled in their wings and down they went. Oliver quickly tried to help them up and assured they were not hurt. To his relief, both dragons were laughing.

 _Oli…_ called Luminaria when they had calmed. _What game do you play?_

“What game dae a play?”

 _Yeah, Dada said you have a game_. Her big green eyes stared at him with curiosity. _And I remember Mia coming to one of your games. What kind of game is it?_

Nazuri tilted his head. _Da’s really good at Hide and Seek. Do you play that?_

Oliver chuckled. “A can play that if ye want. But yer Da was talking aboot ma job.”

 _What job?_ Luminaria asked.

“Well, a play a game called Quidditch fer a living,” said Oliver and wondered how he could explain this to dragons. Merlin, he was telling _dragons_ about his favourite sport! This was it. He had peaked in life!

 _How do you play Kwitch?_ Nazuri asked.

“Quidditch is played on brooms.” Oliver took three twigs of different lengths and, with a wave of his wand, made them stand on their own. “There are three hoops that _Chasers_ try tae shoot a ball intae. The ball is called a Quaffle. It’s roond and red, like Nazuri when he’s all curled up.”

Lumi laughed and Nazuri curled himself up.

_Like this?_

Oliver chuckled. “Aye, just like that. Noo, ma job as a _Keeper_ is tae stop the balls frae going through the hoops.”

 _What’s a hoop?_ Luminaria asked, looking at the sticks then at Oliver.

The Scot took three sizable rocks and transfigured them into rings that he then placed a Sticking charm on before putting them on the sticks. “That.”

 _Wow…_ said the two dragons, walking around and inspecting what he had done.

Nazuri looked at Oliver. _Did Da play with you?_

“Yer Da was actually ma captain when we were younger.”

 _What’s a captain?_ Nazuri asked.

“The leader af the players. He trained us tae be good at what we dae and hoo tae work as a team.”

 _Was he a Keeper or a Chaser?_ Luminaria asked and Oliver was impressed that she remembered the terms.

“He was a _Seeker_. The Seeker’s job was tae find a tiny golden ball called a Snitch that flew everywhere very, very fast. Wance he got the Snitch, the game was over.”

 _That’s a lot to remember_ , said Luminaria and began to climb his leg again. Oliver helped her and placed her on his knee where she perched comfortably.

 _So you fly on the brooms?_ Nazuri asked, whose energy seemed to be unending as he kept walking around the hoops, and Oliver nodded his head. _Do you go very high?_

“Quite high, yeah.”

_Like, like as high from here to mummy?_

Oliver looked to where Avienne and Hermione were huddled at the other side of the pit. “Higher than tha’.”

The Fireball’s big eyes became even bigger. _Like as high as the Ward?_

Again, Oliver looked. “Higher.”

Luminaria blinked her green eyes several times as though she could not believe it. _How high, Oli?_

 _“_ As high as the ceiling.”

Both dragons looked up and marvelled. _Whoa…_

 _I want to fly, but Da said I can’t do that yet_ , said Nazuri, flopping on the ground dramatically.

“When yer bigger, ye can fly anywhere.”

 _We fly when they take us to Central_ , said Luminaria. _Mia’s always scared I’ll fall, though._

 _Lumi can fly when she’s sleeping_ , said Nazuri matter-of-factly, sitting bolt upright again.

The little black dragon nodded her head and looked at Oliver, patting his hand in excitement. _The other day, I was flying very, very high up. I could even see clouds, Oli!_

“Wow!” exclaimed Oliver. “Tha’ is very, very high!”

_Yeah! And I was playing with Tove and Thyra!_

Oliver froze. Luminaria seemed to be experiencing the same kind of dreams as Hermione. “That is fantastic!” he said, this time genuinely excited and in awe. The little dragon preened at his praise. “Did ye remember a was telling ye aboot the Dragon af Thunder?” They both nodded enthusiastically. “Thyra is one.”

 _Whoa…_ Nazuri said.

 _Wow!_ Luminaria said and climbed down to Oliver’s calf so she could turn to the Fireball. _Nazuri, come see. She’s big!_

The little dragon projected an image that Oliver also received of Thyra the Dragon of Thunder, who was blinding in brilliance and shone like the reflection of the sun in the sea. Oliver was just as excited to see her as Nazuri.

 _What is that on her face?_ Nazuri asked.

“War paint,” said Oliver. “Ye see when Vikings in the auld stories went –”

 _Legends_ , interjected Luminaria and he laughed.

“Aye, when Viking in the _legends_ went tae war, they painted their faces tae intimidate the enemy.”

Nazuri tilted his head. _What’s imtidate?_

“In-ti-mi-date,” said Oliver slowly and heard Luminaria saying it back carefully. “It means to scare them.”

 _Oh. I just do this_. The little dragon made the fringe of golden spikes around his face flare out and stretched his wings wide open before blowing smoke from his nose. Then he sneezed and set one of the twigs on fire and landed himself on his backside.

Luminaria tumbled back in laughter while Oliver quickly conjured water to put the fire out. _I bet that doesn’t happen in your game, Oli_ , she said with a giggle.

Oliver laughed as well. “Naw, thank Morgana fer that!”

Nazuri picked up a pebble with his mouth. _Watch out, Oli, look!_ He blew it out and into the middle hoop it went.

Oliver shouted and cheered. “Well done, Nazuri! Tha’s ten points right there!”

 _I want to try! I want to try!_ Luminaria cried and quickly jumped off Oliver’s leg. She picked up a pebble in her mouth, too, and hobbled over to the right hoop before spitting it out. In it went and Oliver cheered and clapped for her.

“Ten points for Luminaria the dragon! Outstanding throw of the pebble!” he commentated.

Luminaria jumped about, flapping her wings in excitement.

 _I want another go_ , said Nazuri and Oliver levitated a handful of pebbles between them.

“The Fireball is dashing through the pitch, ladies and gentlemen,” commentated Oliver. “He spits, he scores! Twenty points fer the red dragon, Nazuri! And here comes Luminaria. She looks determined, she will nae be beaten. She spits, she scores! And the crood gos wild. Ahhhhh…”

The two dragons happily jump about and laughed as Oliver imitated the roaring of the crowd. Behind him, he heard laughter as well and turned around to see Avienne, Hermione and Charlie watching him.

“Hullo.”

 _Mum, mum, we’re playing Kwitch!_ Nazuri shouted.

 _I scored twice_ , said Luminaria proudly.

“Well done, you two,” said Hermione as she and Charlie came down to where they were.

 _Nazuri burned one of the hoops down_ , chuckled Luminaria. _But we still have two more._

Nazuri curled himself to a ball and rolled backwards. _Da, look, I’m a Quaffle!_

Charlie laughed out loud and sat beside Oliver. “Yeah, you are. Look at that. It’s perfect!” He took the little red Fireball and tickled him.

Meanwhile, Oliver lovingly looked at his Fated as she stood on the other side of him and ruffled his hair. “They have _perfect_ aim. Am just saying,” he said and stood up to wrap his arms around her waist. She responded by putting her hands at the back of his neck. “We have a Keeper, we have a Seeker. If Adherion were here, we have three Chasers!”

Hermione tilted her head back in laughter. “What about Beaters, then?”

“Disnae count.”

“Why not?”

“Dae ye think anyone would want tae throo Bludgers at three dragons?”

She conceded. “Fair point. But…” She looked down at the two dragons who were continuing to throw pebbles into the hoops, each one getting in. “Baby, sweetie, we’ll have to go now. We’re eating in the cafeteria.”

 _Aww, but I want to play_ , moaned Nazuri.

“Afterwards,” said Charlie, “we’ll visit Adherion.”

The two dragons cheered, makeshift Quidditch momentarily forgotten. Charlie picked the two of them up and they began to walk to the entrance of the Crèche.

 _Are we riding on Reinmar again?_ Luminaria asked.

“No, Oliver and Charlie will take us up,” said Hermione and once again, they cheered.

***

There was a buzz in Central because a famous, professional Quidditch player was eating at the cafeteria. Not just any Quidditch player, the youngest ever to make captain in one of the top three Quidditch teams in England. And of course, people were wondering if Oliver was there for Hermione. Hermione acted as if she heard nothing and Adrian, Avienne and Ardy ate with them to serve as buffers.

Afterwards, Oliver and Charlie flew Hermione and their two newborns over to the north-eastern mountains to visit Adherion and Lucile who was being watched over by Nicky and several others.

The first thing Hermione saw was the beautiful green lake that was the water’s reflection to the lush vegetation. Trees beautifully surrounded the mountain and stopped a few meters from the shore of the lake, which was bigger than Hermione had previously thought. Nicky, along with three other dragon keepers Hermione had met before in the cafeteria, met them on a top of a herculean boulder that overlooked the lake and for some reason, Hermione was tempted to jump off of it into the cool, refreshing waters below.

As they stepped off onto the boulder, Charlie met with Nicky immediately and introduced Oliver to the rest of the group. Meanwhile, Hermione looked around amazed. Luminaria, like her, looked around, too, with wide glowing green eyes. The little dragon had not seen anything like this before and she stared, entranced, at the scenery before her.

_Pretty… Mia, look!_

Hermione could not help but agree. “It is pretty, isn’t it?”

“Welcome to the North-East, _bella_. _Ciao_ ,” greeted Nicky and kissed both of her cheek. He also patted Luminaria’s head softly.

“ _Ciao_ , Nicolo,” greeted Hermione right back. “We want to visit Adherion, I hope that’s all right.”

“ _Assolutamente!_ ” said Nicky and turned to the two men as well. “You are very, very lucky, because today wonderful things will happen. You see,” he regarded Oliver especially, “dragons generally reach their ability to take flight at about a year old _, approssimativamente_ – how you say? Approximately? Roughly? Roughly one year old. Opaleyes, they go by this rule, but every now and again, they work hard and they succeed at eleven months. But this Opaleye, Adherion, he is ten months old. _Ten months_ and already, he flies _sapientemente_ – no, no – _bella_ ,” he looked at one of the other dragon keepers. “How you say like _competente, esperto_ – you know, _esperto_?”

“Expert,” answered Jael Crowe. She was one of the few female dragon keepers in the Reserve and always dressed in absolute black in a way that reminded Hermione of a photograph she saw of Sirius in his youth with his punk-rock clothing.

“ _Sì, sì, grazie!_ ” He turned back to Oliver. “Adherion flies like expert. Like you. And today, his mother, Lucile, has been teaching him how to hunt.”

“Awesome,” said Oliver.

“Lucile has been showing him all morning. Now, it’s his turn. _È bellissimo._ ” Nicky turned to Nazuri, running a finger down his head. “Will you like that? You like to see your big brother hunt?”

Nazuri tried to bite him and earned a laugh from the three dragon keepers with Nicky.

“Nazuri!” scolded Charlie.

 _He’s touching me, Da_ , growled the little tyke. _I don’t like it._

Charlie frowned.

“He’s very grumpy,” said Nicky.

“He must not like the accent,” teased Crowe.

Nazuri buried his head in Charlie’s open flannel.

As Charlie apologized for the little Fireball, Hermione looked down to see little Luminaria craning her neck to see down below the boulder. To help the little one, she walked close to the edge and both of them looked down.

It was a strange sensation. Before, Hermione would have definitely hated this. She would have hidden herself and quickly backed away from the edge. One of the main reasons she hated flying so much was because of her fear of heights. However, at this moment, what she experienced was the desire to jump. Not only that, she could feel Luminaria’s desire to do it, too. There was that hunger in the little dragon for the thrill to jump down, spread her wings open and glide through the still waters below them.

Hands held onto Hermione’s waist and pulled her back gently until she could feel Oliver’s chest behind her and his lips on her ear.

“Be careful, we wouldnae want ye falling,” he whispered and kissed her shoulder. Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest.

Luminaria looked up at both of them. _I want to jump_ , she said with a slight pout, knowing the answer would be a negative. Her human was always strict and protective.

Hermione, however, looked over her shoulder at Oliver. “Hey, I have an idea.” She whispered it in his ear.

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up after she told him. Hermione was quite prepared for him to say no, but instead, he glanced at Charlie and inclined his head to call the redhead over.

“What is it?” asked Charlie.

Oliver lowered his voice so Nicky and the others would not be able to hear. “Our woman wants mae tae take her and Lumi fer a dive.”

Charlie looked at Hermione with a raised brow, as though reading to see if she was serious or not. Hermione leaned back onto Oliver and nodded her head once.

 _Da, please_ , pleaded Luminaria. _Mia and I want to do it. Pleeeease._

“Yeah, Bunny,” said Hermione, jutting her lower lip out slightly. “Pleeeeease.”

Charlie puffed out a breath and muttered, “Fuck, you’re adorable,” before clapping Oliver on the back and walking back to Nicky.

“Am guessing tha’s a ‘yes’,” said Oliver and summoned his broom from where he had left it. Once he was in position, he helped Hermione to sit behind him with Luminaria in front of him. That way, he could hold the little dragon with one hand and the broom in the other, while Hermione would have her hands both secured on Oliver’s waist.

Once they were ready, Oliver circled the boulder before increasing in speed and diving off of the side. A thrill rolled off of Hermione as she squeezed the Scot’s waist and shouted in excitement. And, just as they were about to hit the water, Oliver levelled their flight and went around the lake.

Hermione dipped her fingers into the still waters of the lake and felt its coolness touch her skin before Oliver gently brought them up again and landed them beautifully next to five very entertained dragon keepers.

“Excellent flying, mate!” cried one of them and Oliver kindly nodded his head in recognition.

“Happy?” asked Charlie with a twinkle in his eyes as he helped Hermione down.

“Absolutely!” replied Hermione.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, Granger!” shouted Crowe, applauding her.

“You’re smiling, Crowe,” said Hermione. “You better wipe that off your face quickly. We wouldn’t want people to think I’ve turned you soft.”

Crowe grinned all the more. “Did not think you were so concerned for my image.”

“Black leather, punk rock, looks that could kill? What’s not to love?”

“Stop flirting, you two,” said another dragon keeper – Livre, Hermione thought his name was.

“Don’t be jealous, Armand,” said Crowe, “just because she notices me.”

Hermione did not mind them anymore.

 _Again! Again! We’ve got to do that again!_ Luminaria shouted excitedly, making Hermione laugh as she picked up the little thing and spun her around.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?” she asked and the little one squawked and squealed in delight.

“We can dae it again later before we go home, if ye like,” said Oliver, fondling her head lightly.

“Say ‘thank you’ to Oliver,” said Hermione.

The little dragon cooed and rubbed her face on Oliver’s hand.

“She’s in love with you,” said Nicky, sounding almost jealous. “I’ve never seen her do that with anyone and not get blisters from the smoke she blows.”

 _That’s because she doesn’t like you either_ , said Nazuri.

 _Nuh-uh_ , said Luminaria. _I like him when he draws._

_He doesn’t draw a lot, Lumi._

_Yeah…_

The three tried not to react.

“Look, look,” said Nicky. “There they come.”

True enough, out of the trees emerged the two pearly white shapes of Lucile and Adherion. The latter quickly ran through the grass and took flight flawlessly. Once in the air, Adherion circled once before suddenly diving down and pulling back up impeccably.

“He caught it!” said Oliver, watching in absolute admiration.

Adherion then threw his catch, a young hare, into the air before blowing fire onto it. As it crashed onto the ground, Adherion landed and ate. Lucile gave a delighted roar of approval to her son.

A sense of absolute pride came to Hermione at how fast her once-little Adherion was growing and how quickly he was learning.

“Tha’ was absolutely fantastic!” cried Oliver and Hermione looked at him and saw the same pride she felt for the Opaleye.

“He’s exhibiting retainable knowledge and wisdom in application,” said Hermione, “which is amazing. According to my research, dragons aren’t always successful during their first hunt.”

“ _Hai ragione_ – you are absolutely right,” said Nicky. “Adherion is showing absolute promise. Usually, it takes from two to five times before fledglings get the fundamentals of the hunting process. And usually, the first hunt is always messy. But with him –” he kissed his fingertips “– _perfetto! Splendido!_ ”

“Yeah, that was a clean kill,” agreed Charlie. “According to Mattie, the Welsh Green in the north-west took four tries before he was successful, and Thell said the Horntail took two.”

Oliver had a wide, well-pleased smile on his face, and they watched as Adherion and Lucile go back into the woods.

Hermione could tell that Oliver wanted to stay and spend time with his dragon, but with Nicky and the others being there, they could not do so. To them, Oliver was simply a visitor and, though Hermione eating with a dragon around her had become common sight in the Reserve cafeteria, none knew of the bonds that now connected the Fated and their dragons.

“All right, we better go,” said Charlie.

Immediately, the two little dragons began to excitedly squeal.

_Da! Da! Can we fly like Oli did? Da, can you take me diving as well? Please, please, please…_

_Mia, Mia, can we dive again? Oli, can you do that again? I want to fly! Pleeeeease…_

“I think they’re hungry,” said Nicky with a laugh. “Better get them back.”

Charlie simply agreed and he, Hermione and Oliver thanked the dragon keepers for their time and for allowing them to witness such a milestone. Brooms were then taken and, when the newborns and Hermione were positioned, Oliver and Charlie circled the boulder before speeding up and taking a dive and finally, flying them all to the Crèche.

***

Oliver was full. They had eaten at Hermione’s for dinner and she had prepared lasagne and he had eaten most of it – which was saying something, given that his competition was a Weasley. As they waited for the tea, Oliver looked around Hermione’s home. There was a beautiful sunset painting on top of the small floating shelf beside the bay window of the Reserve in wonderful mixtures of purple, orange, indigo and yellow that his eyes gravitated toward. It took his breath away and he had a brief notion that if his father were alive, he would be displaying Hermione’s artwork proudly in their gallery as well.

On the shelf was a mixture of moving and still framed photographs. There was a picture of Harry and Hermione from when they were children grinning widely into the camera. They looked to be eleven or twelve in the still image with the Hogwarts train on the background. Another was of Hermione with the Weasleys during Christmas time where they were opening gifts and laughing, all of them wearing similar sweaters with the initial of their first names stitched to the front. Another photograph was of Hermione and two people Oliver had never seen before. Since the photograph was not moving, he assumed those were Hermione’s parents. The next one was of Hermione and her group of friends raising champagne flutes in the Quidditch stadium box. This must have been taken during the Christmas match, then. The last three were not photographs at all, but small canvases that contained paintings of Luminaria, Nazuri, and a baby Adherion.

An arm over his shoulders signalled Oliver of Charlie’s presence. “Guess what I found?”

“What?”

Charlie had a mischievous look in his eyes as he showed Oliver what he was holding.

“A book?”

“Not just any book.” Charlie opened it and showed the drawings on the inside. “Hermione’s sketch book.”

They flipped through the pages of Hermione’s artwork – drawings of Adherion, dragon eggs coloured to perfection, sketches of Michan and Memphis hanging out, drawings of the Reserve from different vantage points, the Crèche, of Avienne, of Harry, of Charlie, the little newborns playing, of the Horntail, of Charlie and Nazuri, the Waters’ brothers, of Charlie asleep on the mattress in the Incubation Ward, of Charlie looking out somewhere, of Oliver in his Quidditch gear, of Luminaria and Nazuri, of Oliver in the library, of Oliver on his broom, of Oliver, of Charlie and Oliver, of Oliver, of Charlie, of Oli –

“I have tea,” said Hermione in a melodic manner.

Oliver and Charlie quickly faced her, hiding the sketchbook behind them.

Hermione raised an eyebrow as she put the tea on the centre table. “What are you two up to?”

“Nothing,” they both chorused.

Hermione crossed her arms and gave them a squinted glare.

Oliver and Charlie did not move but smiled innocently.

Hermione extended an open palm to them. “Give it.”

“What?” they feigned.

“Whatever it is you two broke or stole.”

“We didnae break anything.”

“We didn’t steal anything.”

Hermione squinted once more then went to them to try and grab whatever it was they were hiding. Oliver ran interception and grabbed the little witch by the waist and spun her around, dragging her behind the couch and away from Charlie. Concurrently, Charlie tried to keep the sketchbook behind him while not giving her a hint of what it was.

“Oliver Wood, you stop that – Charlie Weasley, is that my sketchbook?” said Hermione, looking behind her at the redhead.

“What? No!” said Charlie.

“Excuse you, I can see the reflection of it on the window, genius!”

Charlie looked behind him, as did Oliver, and sure enough, it was clear from the window reflection what it was.

“You give me that right now, Mister!” said Hermione and went to grab it, but Oliver kept a firm hold on her.

Charlie grinned. “Why? Oliver and I were just appreciating your drawings.”

Hermione was beginning to blush and Oliver was loving it. “I – I was – it’s private.”

“Really? Because this is my face in here,” said Charlie, showing her a page. “And this one is Oli, and this one is me again, and this one is me and Oli –”

“Urgh!” said Hermione and hid her face in her hands.

Oliver laughed and pulled her closer to him. “Dinnae worry, they’re lovely.”

She said something in a muffled voice.

“What?”

Hermione lowered her hands a little. She was doing that adorable pout again. “I was just practicing…”

“A knoo. Yer amazing at it. And a dinnae mind being yer inspiration.” He wiggled his brows cheekily.

Hermione hid her blushing face again.

Oliver looked at a chuckling Charlie and ushered him over. Charlie came closer, putting the book down on the couch, and ran his fingertips up and down Hermione’s arms as Oliver squeezed her waist and pulled her closer. Oliver began to kiss her fingers one by one as Charlie kissed her head, down to her earlobe and all the way down the side of her neck.

Slowly, Hermione parted her hands and sighed.

Oliver leaned his forehead onto hers. “There she is… our Fated…” He kissed her forehead down to the tip of her nose as Charlie trailed his kisses down her shoulder and over her scar before running the tip of his nose along where he had just kissed her.

“Isn’t she beautiful, Oli?” whispered Charlie. “I love that blush.”

“Aye, as dae a… and that little pout, too.”

“Hmm.”

Oliver was sure Hermione could feel Charlie’s chest vibrate on her back with that low hum because she sighed. It made him smile as he kissed along her jaw. Meanwhile, Charlie guided Hermione’s fingers to comb through Oliver’s hair while he kissed down the back of her neck where his name was forever written on her skin. The redhead then ran his fingertips all the way down Hermione’s arm, in turn making her run her nails through Oliver’s scalp. Oliver could not help but moan and squeeze her hips. Charlie ran his nails down her back and Hermione moaned. The sound of it made the two men bite their bottom lips. So sweet and so delicious was this sound, Oliver wanted to hear it again.

Charlie tilted Hermione’s head back and kissed her. Oliver could not help himself. He let his hands go lower and squeezed her perfect arse. Hermione moaned again. Merlin, that was delicious!

The fire sparked in the fireplace before a voice was heard coming out of it.

“Hermione, are you free for – _oh shiiiiiiit_ …”

The three jumped apart and looked to the fireplace to see Pansy’s face in the flames wearing a very cheeky grin.

“I’m sorry, was I… _interrupting something_?” she cockily asked.

Hermione cleared her throat. “What do you want, Pans?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if you were free Friday night. Blaise is inviting us to his manor to watch movies. Buuuuut if you have better things to do – like each other – that would be absolutely understandable. Bye!” And she was gone.

Hermione’s chin dropped to her chest. “I hate her. That’s it. Friendship over.”

Charlie and Oliver chuckled and the latter lifted up her chin.

“Dinnae worry aboot it, Hermione.” He ran his thumb over her blush. “It’ll only be embarrassing if ye let it.”

“He’s right,” said Charlie as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “Nobody has the ability to make you feel anything unless you allow it.”

Their witch was thankfully drinking in their wisdom in and, when she nodded, both men smiled.

“By the way, what is this contraption?” asked Oliver, pointing at a black frame with a dark, reflective glass on top of Hermione’s fireplace.

“That’s a television,” said Hermione. “We watch movies on it.”

“The same one you’ll watch in Blaise’s?” asked Oliver.

“Well, no,” she said. “There are different kinds of movies. I have a few here. You play it on that silver thing there called a DVD player. It’s quite entertaining. Like story telling, but you get to watch it unfold before your eyes and acted out.”

One look at Charlie’s face told Oliver that the redhead was just as intrigued as he was. “Can we watch a movie?” the Scot asked.

“Sure, what do you want?” Hermione reached down her bottom shelf and pulled off narrow, rectangular boxes with still photographs on them.

“Muggles know of mermaids?” asked Charlie as he pointed at a box with the title of _The Little Mermaid_. True enough, there was a mermaid on it with red hair.

“They don’t think they’re real,” said Hermione. “Mostly, mermaids to Muggles are fictitious characters in children’s stories used to inspire their imagination.”

“What aboot this?” asked Oliver. “Muggles have giants?”

“Oh, _The Princess Bride_!” said Hermione excitedly. “That’s a really good movie, one of my favourites. There’s a kind hearted half-giant, a scheming prince wanting to be a king, a sword-master wanting to bring to justice the six-fingered man who murdered his father, and a noble pirate who would risk anything for his true love.”

“Sounds good,” said Charlie.

“Yeah, sounds good,” said Oliver. “Can we please see it?”

Hermione smiled in delight and put the movie on.

Oliver had never seen anything like it. This wonderful device showed them images from different locations and wonderful people inside the box – actors, Hermione said – that portrayed a wonderful story. Without a word of a lie, Oliver wanted to learn sword fighting after watching Inigo Montoya and Westley’s battle on the Cliffs of Insanity. Charlie, on the other hand, loved Fezzik’s character. The redhead kept repeating, “He’s like Hagrid!” every time the gentle giant did something. They all loved Miracle Max and his wife, Valerie.

After the movie, Charlie headed home after one last kiss to Hermione, while Oliver lingered a bit to help clean up their dishes. When he went back to the living room, Hermione was not there.

“Hermione?”

“One sec,” she called from upstairs and came down with two light grey cotton cloth-covered notebook in hand. “This is for you,” she said, giving him one. “This is a brand new product of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes called InstaChat Notebook. It will allow us to instantly write each other letters without the need of an owl.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped in surprise. “Tha’s possible?”

Hermione delightfully nodded and pulled him back on the couch and handed him a muggle pen. “Write anything you want.”

Oliver wrote something simple. _Can we watch another movie soon?_

Hermione opened her notebook and wrote something, too.

To Oliver’s surprise, when he looked down at his notebook, his writing was not the only thing there.

_Can we watch another movie soon?_

**_You still owe me dinner._ **

Hermione chuckled at his shock. “That’s not all,” she said. “If you put in your magical signature, the book will shut and zap anyone who touches it that isn’t you, so the conversations remain private. You also have the option to wipe the pages clean or keep them.” She tapped the tip of his nose with a finger. “So you can remember a date, for example.”

Oliver smiled and kissed her fingertip. “Aye, a havnae forgotten, dinnae worry. Am planning fer it tae be perfect, tha’s all.”

“If you say so.”

“Aye, a dae.” He moved closer to her. “Ye ken what this means, dinnae ye? A get tae write ye anytime.”

“Um-hmm.”

“And a dinnae ken if Charlie’s told ye, but am asking permission frae ma manager fer flexible accommodations.” He intertwined Hermione’s fingers in his. “A cannae dae a week or two withoot seeing ye.”

“Good,” she said and kissed him.

Kissing Hermione felt like being submerged underwater. At times, Oliver felt as though that water was cool and fresh and left him energized. Other times, it felt like submerging in hot water and left him feeling like melting. All the same, Hermione would always take his breath away.

Once more, his woman had her fingers tangled in his hair, with fingernails scratching down the back of his head. Oliver melted and hardened at the touch and, before he knew it, the Scot had grabbed Hermione and positioned her on top of him, straddling him. He did not care. She was water and he was thirsty.

Their kisses turned clashing and rough. Oliver locked an arm around her waist while his hand ran slowly up her thigh and squeezed. Hermione was moaning again and Oliver was quickly becoming addicted to the sound. He pushed her and she pushed back. He flicked his tongue in her mouth and felt her respond in kind until their tongues were dancing and clashing, like white waters going over and under.

His feisty witch pulled his hair and Oliver groaned. He ran his hand up her back, while the other travelled down to her bottom. He squeezed and as expected, she whimpered.

Before things could proceed further, however, Hermione placed a hand on Oliver’s chest. He instantly lifted his hands off of her and stopped his kisses.

“Sorry aboot that,” he said.

Hermione shook her head. “Not just your fault,” she said. “Just… it’s um…”

“Ye dinnae have tae explain yerself, Hermione. If yer nae ready, or if am going further than ye want, all ye have tae dae is tell mae.”

Hermione nodded her head. Oliver did not want to mess this up and he would never, ever force her into anything past what she was comfortable with. Not only would she hex him for it, Oliver was sure Charlie would kill him.

“A better go. Early portkey tamorrow.”

Again, Hermione nodded. She gave him a peck on the lips and got off him. Oliver made sure he did not forget his notebook as he went to the door.

“This is still under product testing, okay?” she told him. “Last time George touched Fred’s notebook, it burned his eyebrow.”

“A’ll make sure tae tell Damian this is where a write ye poems then,” said Oliver. “Ye knoo, tae test the effectiveness af the protective charms and all tha’.”

“I want a photograph of the result… you know, for feedback.”

Oliver chuckled as he stepped outside the door. “A’ll see ye soon then.”

Hermione hesitated. “Can I see you tomorrow for a goodbye?”

Oliver sadly shook his head and caressed her face with his thumb. “Am leaving way before dawn. We have a very early training session a’ll have tae catch up on.”

Hermione pouted but nodded her head nonetheless as she leaned into his touch. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

“A’ll make sure tae get tae that date…” Oliver kissed her lingeringly one last time before leaving and made sure she had closed the door before he went into Charlie’s. Fuck, he was really falling hard for this woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's so fluffy am gonna die!" - Agnes


	31. Connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Just want to thank all the people who read this fic. I appreciate each one of you. To those who gave kudos and left comments, thank you very much. To whose who have been with me since day 1 and those who have binged this in 1 day, thank you so, so much. The world is crazy at the moment, but I'm glad we can all escape a chapter at a time and bring a little bit of happiness to people.
> 
> Much love and stay safe :)

“The goal is tae see if ye can conjure them withoot the help af Luminaria,” said Eleonora. “Ye are connected tae the Riders, Hermione. Just breathe in deep and focus yerself.”

It had been a week and a half since Oliver had gone back to Wales and he still had not been back. Apparently, they were booked-in for press tours and promotions and photoshoots that came with being a professional athlete, not to mention the gruelling training sessions. Oliver and Hermione still wrote to each other daily and the InstaChat Notebooks were a huge help on that front. However, Hermione was missing her Fated so badly that simply writing letters was quickly becoming insufficient.

Avienne had brought a new phase of research into the team, which involved a deeper understanding of the dreams that Hermione had been having. As Oliver told Caine, it was happening and it was real – the proof being that Hermione had substantial knowledge and application of the things that were previously unknown to them, as well as the fact that those who featured in her dreams were accurate to their image and likeness in all books, paintings and historical records. Now, their task was to determine what these dreams were, how they were caused and if Hermione could call on the previous Riders as Eimhir had once told her she would be able to do in time.

The group visited the Wood manor and sought out Eleonora’s help to answer that one. Hence, where Hermione was now: sitting in the living room of the manor for close to an hour, trying her best to concentrate despite the fact that she was so distracted, she was beginning to be really disappointed with herself. Not that that was helping either.

Eleonora sighed. “Hoo aboot we take a wee break?” suggested the matriarch and walked to a table where beautiful small pastries were wonderfully arranged.

Hermione sagged and opened her eyes. “I’m so sorry, guys,” she told Avienne and Adrian.

“Dinnae worry aboot it,” said Adrian. He was sitting on an armchair with a thick book of Dragon Riders lore in one hand and tea in the other. “A’ll keep reading, see if a can find anything tha’ could help.”

“Do you want some tea, honey?” Avienne asked Hermione.

“No, I’m fine,” the younger witch sighed. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Why?” asked the silver-haired witch as she poured some tea for herself.

Hermione pursed her lips. What, was she supposed to say she missed Oliver so much in front of his own brother? That she was worried she was falling for him but he has not given her any indication except to comfort her, which concerned her all the more because she might be getting too clingy too fast?

“Hermione,” called Eleonora as she came closer to the group and levitated a plate full of macaroons and cupcakes towards them. “Go on.”

Hermione took a macaroon she was too depressed to eat.

Eleonora touched her arm. “Would ye mind coming with mae fer a bit?”

“Sure,” said Hermione and, not wanting to offend the older witch, ate her macaroon as they went up the stairs.

“Meditation isnae just aboot reaching intae yer magic, ye knoo,” said the matriarch. “Tae be able tae get anywhere, ye must be aligned as a person, in perfect peace with those aroond ye and with yerself. That means ye have tae harness yer mind, yer heart and yer emotions and, through magic, reach intae the plane beyond our ain. Tha’s why yer having trouble, ma dear, because yer nae aligned.”

Hermione nodded. That made sense. But she did not know how to correct it, so she kept her mouth shut.

Eleonora opened a closed door and Hermione did not know what to expect, but she certainly did not expect this. She was in Oliver’s room.

The walls were painted a peaceful dark grey with high, white-coloured ceiling. The windows and the balcony offered a nice view and natural lighting, but other than a large bed, side tables, a chair and a desk, a bookshelf, and a walk-in closet on the top right, the room was quite bare. The only feature that made it not seem like a showroom was that the right wall and the wall surrounding the door were filled with Quidditch mementos. They held everything – from Oliver’s old Gryffindor Quidditch jerseys and his Puddlemere jerseys through the years, all the way down to the team photographs, pennants for both Quidditch teams, and his brooms and gears. Tucked into the side of the wall, exactly above his desk were two photographs Hermione did not expect to see. One was of her and Avienne and Charlie laughing during Avienne’s birthday party in the Reserve last year and the other was from Harry’s birthday of Hermione dancing between Ginny and Luna.

He liked her then? The thought made Hermione’s heart ache all the more for the Scot.

“Ye miss him.”

Hermione turned to Eleonora and nodded, eyes watering a bit. She tried to blink them away. “I haven’t seen him in a while. And I know it’s stupid. Charlie and I are going to his game in two days, but…” she sighed. “I don’t know.”

Eleonora stroked Hermione’s arm in a gesture of comfort. “Yer Fated noo, Hermione. It’s normal tae miss him. Ideally, ye’ll see him every day tae help strengthen yer bond, but it’ll dae ye naw good tae suppress what ye feel just so ye can shoo other people yer strong and yer a’right.”

“I’m not supposed to be emotional anymore,” said Hermione and Eleonora fondly embraced her before pulling her to sit on Oliver’s bed by the front wall.

“Being emotional and having emotion are two very different things, ma dear,” said Eleonora, tucking the younger witch’s hair behind her ear. “Being emotional is letting yer emotions dictate yer life tae the point af irrational behaviour and illogical decision-making. Having emotion is healthily processing hoo ye feel and determining the best step forward while taking tae account both yer head and yer heart.” She smiled in a motherly way, full of love and understanding. “Fact: ye miss ma son. It’s _okay_ tae feel that way. Fact: we have a task that needs ye tae be able tae concentrate and nae get distracted. Noo, what is the best way fer ye tae proceed while taking both intae account?” She squeezed Hermione’s hand. “Come doonstairs when yer ready.” With that, she left Hermione.

The younger witch felt choked up and tears began to well in her eyes. Lying down, Hermione turned her face to the blanket and closed her eyes. She could still smell Oliver’s lingering scent. She imagined him here, sitting down on his desk to write his game plays and looking up to see her photographs. Her Fated must have put those up there for a reason… perhaps she was his inspiration. Hermione would like to think so.

Getting up, Hermione went to the desk and looked around. Everything was neat and in its proper place that it made her smile. She and Oliver had that in common; Charlie’s flannels were always everywhere. She opened a drawer and found a stack of parchment. She was about to close it when she got a glance of her name. Pulling the drawer back out, Hermione picked up the stack of parchment and flipped through it. She happened upon a letter written to her. Several of them, in fact, though none were finished.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hadn’t thought about you for five days and I’m quite proud of my accomplishment, but I’ve failed today. Today, I learnt of what Ron has done and I want to fly to where you are and assure you’re all right. But I know I can’t and I know you’re not all right. What I wouldn’t give to make sure you’re_

_Dear Hermione,_

_I have this image of you smiling in the light of the fire, looking right at the flames with a twinkle in your eyes. There’s contentment in you that nothing and no one can take and it’s forever burned into my mind since I saw you at Avienne’s party. Whenever I read the_ Prophet _, that’s what I imagine, because I know you’re strong. I know you can make it through this. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever_

_Dear Hermione,_

_I miss you. I miss being near you. I miss hearing your laughter. I miss making you laugh. And it hurts, it physically hurts, not seeing you. But what hurts all the more is the fact that I can’t tell you how I feel_

_Dear Hermione,_

_Do you have any idea how badly I want to tell you truth?_

_~~Dear Hermione,~~ _

_~~My dear Hermione,~~ _

_My Hermione. I’m falling in love with you I’m consumed by it._

Hermione wiped the tears that have fallen from her eyes with a delighted chuckle coming out of her. He missed her. He missed her before they were even Fated. And he was falling for her. He had been for quite some time. Her heart ached, but now because it was brimming with joy. She looked down at her forearm where Oliver’s name was and reminded herself that she was his and he was hers. They belonged to each other and no amount of time could erase that and no distance could diminish it. With a smile, Hermione reached for her beaded bag and placed the letters inside. She had an idea that might just help her Fated, because surely, as much as Oliver was trying to ease out her pain in their conversations in the Notebook, he was missing her, too.

Feeling much better than she had earlier, Hermione decided to do one more thing. By the time she returned downstairs, Hermione was wearing one of Oliver’s spare jerseys from his closet as she sat herself back down on the couch. Eleonora simply smiled and did not say anything neither did Adrian.

“All right fine, you’re dating a Quidditch player. You don’t have to flaunt it. Damn,” joked Avienne and Hermione smiled and hit her face with a pillow causing her to laugh.

“All right, I’m ready,” said Hermione. “Let’s try it again.”

This time, taking a deep breath in, Hermione willed herself to relax and focus. She was at one with herself, at peace in her heart, mind and emotions. With another deep breath, she reached deep down into her magic and began to call on the Riders. They, too, were one with her. They were her predecessors, her forbearers, not by blood but through magic, and they were her guides in this journey.

An image slowly began to form in her mind, though Hermione was uncertain whether or not it was real. The image was moving, regardless, towards her and the more Hermione fought to concentrate and not allow the image to dissipate, the more detail she could pick up. Like the white wolf fur that draped across the woman’s shoulders and the leather armour she wore.

The image faded and Hermione stumbled sideways.

“Are you all right?” came Avienne’s concerned voice.

Hermione opened her eyes and saw the purple-eyed woman staring at her with concern as she kneeled down in front of the couch. “I’m fine,” said Hermione. “I think I saw something.” She touched her head and realized she was sweating.

“Here, drink this,” said Eleonora and handed Hermione a glass of cold water, which the latter gratefully gulped down. “Tell us what ye saw, lass.”

“A woman,” said Hermione, sitting herself properly. “She had white wolf fur draped on her and she’s wearing leather armour.”

“Do you know who she is?” asked Avienne.

Hermione glanced at Eleonora before answering her friend. “I think I do. I didn’t see her face, but I think she could be the statue in the fountain.”

“What statue in the fountain?” asked Adrian. Book discarded to the side, he was leaning forward in the armchair and paying attention to Hermione.

“Your fountain, outside.”

“There’s naw woman in armour in the fountain.”

Hermione shook her head. “When I saw it the first time I dreamt, when Eimhir came to me, Eirik’s statue stood beside Solveig, and Eira and Brenna stood beside Herlief.”

“So you saw Brenna?” asked Avienne.

Hermione tilted her head. “ _I think_ it’s her. She had leather armour. I didn’t make her face, though. Can I have some more water, please?”

With a wave of Eleonora’s wand, Hermione’s glass filled again and she drank it all before taking a deep breath. The Wood matriarch did not say anything, though she had a very thoughtful look on her face.

“I’ll go in again,” Hermione said, seeming more determined.

Avienne held her hand in support before letting go.

This time, slipping into the meditation was not as difficult, though it still needed a strong push from Hermione’s will power. In spite of that, the image started to come again. White wolf fur, leather armour with intricate details, animal hide cape, trousers and boots. A sword was sheathed on her right hip, knuckles that were criss-crossed with scars. Finally, Hermione saw her face with certain clarity.

She was a fair woman with fierce grey eyes made sharper still by the kohl around it. Her blonde hair was long though she had shaved the right side of her head. The top, she had braided intricately while the rest tumbled down and flicked as though blown by an invisible wind. Every now and then, Hermione would catch pieces of braided hair flutter about her face before they were swept away again. All around her was hazy white and Hermione could only assume they were nowhere in particular.

“You’re not Brenna,” Hermione said and was surprised to hear her voice echo and wave.

“No, I am not,” said the Viking woman with a voice that sounded authoritative and direct. Her accent sounded foreign, though Hermione could not pick up on where it was from. “My name is Serrilda.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed. “I’ve seen you before… in the cave, when Luminaria gave me my blessing.”

The woman’s lips turned upwards in one corner. “Dat is right. I am da fourt Rider and I believe, you are taw be next… ‘Ermione Granyer.” Serrilda placed her fist on her chest and dropped down on one knee before bowing her head to Hermione.

Graciously, Hermione curtsied before her and they both rose together.

“You ‘ave done well taw call on me, but I want you taw keep on practicing. Every day, you repeat dis process until dis is as natural taw you as breating. If possible, do it wit your Fated, your dragon or bot of dem nearby. Dey will help you with your magic.”

The edges of the image of the woman were beginning to fade, but Serrilda grabbed hold of Hermione’s arms and forced her to concentrate.

“Breat and remember, Rider, you are capable. Beyond what you can imagine, you are capable.” With one last squeeze at Hermione’s arms, Serrilda gave an uneven smile, her eyes fierce yet proud, and commanded her, “Now, open your eyes.”

Hermione gasped deeply as she opened her eyes and sagged back into the couch. Avienne was beside her immediately, offering a glass of water and dabbing a cloth on her forehead. Adrian was standing in front of her with his arms crossed and a worried look on his face, while his mother looked on proudly at Hermione.

“Well?” asked Avienne.

“I spoke to Serrilda,” said Hermione. “She was the fourth Rider.”

Avienne squealed and hugged her tightly. Meanwhile, Adrian looked relieved.

“Well done, lass,” said Eleonora with a motherly smile. “A knew ye could dae it.”

Hermione smiled at them all as she parted with Avienne and drank the glass she was given.

“Hoo dae ye feel?” asked Adrian.

“Tired,” she replied. “Serrilda told me to practice this every day with my Fated or Lumi or both beside me. She said they’ll help with my magic?”

Eleonora nodded sagely. “Yer magical core will be supported and strengthened by them.” She sat beside Hermione and held her hand. “If a may suggest, practice more with Charlie there tae sustain and support ye. It’ll help tae strengthen yer bond tagether. Though being with Luminaria will help with your bond as Rider and Dragon, she is young and will nae be able tae helping ye physically as much as Charlie can.”

Hermione nodded her head. “All right.”

“Make sure tae have something tae eat and drink as well,” said Eleonora. “This kinds af things can take a lot oot af ye.”

“I will, thank you.” Hermione could not help but think how lucky she was and how grateful she was to have Eleonora to guide her with both academic and motherly wisdom.

The matriarch smiled preciously at her and pushed her hair out of her face.

Avienne decided to call it a day soon after. She and Adrian were bringing books back to the Reserve and researching some more. Hermione asked to be given some of them, but was strictly instructed by the silver-haired witch to go home and sleep. Hermione did not have the strength to argue and simply did as she was told.

The bed dipped beside her and Hermione slowly drifted onto consciousness. A large, callused hand pushed back hair from her face and held her cheek, brushing her jaw with a rough thumb. _Pine, smoke and fresh laundry_. Hermione smiled and opened her eyes to the azure and sky-blue eyes of her fiery-haired Fated.

“Hi…” he said.

“Hi…” she said.

He looked down at her shirt. “How come Oli managed to get you in his jersey and he’s not even here?”

Hermione giggled. “I missed him earlier. I was so distracted that we really could not get anything done. Then Eleonora brought me up to his room and spoke to me. She’s a really wise woman. When she left, I went for a look around and found a few things.”

“The jersey being one of them?”

“The jersey being one of them.” She rubbed the tip of her nose to his. “Do you want me in your jersey, too, bunny?”

Charlie blushed and tried to casually shrug but Hermione was not buying it.

“Yes or no, bunny.”

Charlie frowned and then nodded his head.

Hermione laughed. How could her burly man manage to look so adorable?

“Avienne said you got tired out.”

“Hmm…” Hermione played with the buttons of his flannel. “Tried contacting one of the Riders on the astral plane.”

“And?”

She smiled. “Managed to get one. Serrilda. She’s a Viking Queen Rider.”

“Wow…”

“Hmm, I know. She had leather armour on and one side of her head shaved. And she had a white wolf fur on her shoulders.”

Charlie chuckled. “She sounds fierce.”

“She does seem that way.” Hermione played with his beard. “She told me I should practice with you by my side. Help me control my magic.”

Charlie nodded. “Avienne told me. We can try it tomorrow at the Crèche. She and Memphis will be there to help look after the newborns anyway.”

Hermione agreed. “Did you just get out of work?”

“I did. What do you want to eat?”

Hermione frowned and pulled Charlie in a hug. “A dinnae ken.”

Charlie planted kisses all over her shoulder that Hermione’s tattooed Luminaria glowed in delight. “Do you feel like eating chicken?”

“Meh.”

“Lamb?”

“Meh.”

“Beef?”

“Meh.”

“Fish?”

Hermione paused. Charlie kissed her neck. “Okay. I think I want fish. Do you know how to cook sweet and sour fish?”

Charlie pushed himself up by his elbows, mock-affronted. “Who do you think you’re talking to? You should know, Miss Granger, your Fated is the third best cook in the Weasley household.”

“Oh, how dare I be so impertinent? I do apologize, my good sir.”

Charlie narrowed his eyes at her. “Just this once, my lady, I shall forgive. But at a price.”

“What price, dear sir?”

“Your lips. Your kisses. Your touch, my –”

Hermione pulled him in for a kiss and tugged on him until he crushed her upper body under his. She could feel the muscles on his back beneath her palms and could not help but smile.

Charlie rubbed their noses together as they parted. “One sweet and sour fish, coming right up. Do you want rice with that?”

Hermione nodded.

“All right then.” With one last kiss, Charlie got up and went downstairs to cook. Meanwhile, Hermione sat up in bed and summoned her beaded bag to pull out the letters Oliver had made for her. She had an idea of what to do earlier and now she would start it. Then her two-way mirror rang.

“Hey, Hermione,” said Harry. “I just found something you’ll love me for.”

***

Charlie rose earlier than he usually did. Last night, Harry dropped in at Hermione’s to bring her several files that Charlie knew Hermione would not let go of until she has read all of it. He wanted to help her but around eleven, his eyes were already drooping, so she sent him off to bed. As he made his way over to her cottage, however, Charlie wondered if Hermione slept at all. Whenever she was concentrating on things and wanted to accomplish something, she had the tendency to hyper-focus and neglect her wellbeing. Sleep and meals were the ones usually sacrificed.

He was thinking about what to cook her for breakfast when something else took Charlie’s attention. There was yelling coming from the inside of Hermione’s cottage. Immediately concerned for his Fated, Charlie burst through the door and saw his youngest brother by the fireplace, red-faced and enraged.

“What the hell is going on here?” Charlie demanded.

“Charlie,” said Hermione, sounding relieved, and she immediately went to him.

Charlie gritted his teeth as she tucked herself on his side and buried her face on his chest. _Nothing_ fazed Hermione. He turned to his brother. “What the hell did you do?” he asked, his voice cold.

“I came in here to talk,” said Ron. “Settle things, you know. But when I came through, I saw her wearing Oliver’s jersey. Why the hell is your bloody girlfriend wearing someone else’s jersey?” Ron pointed as though Charlie could fucking miss it. “That’s his _current_ jersey, Charlie.”

“I know that,” he replied curtly, jaw clenched. “But I think the more pertinent question is: why the fuck are you in Hermione’s home?”

“As I said –”

“No, who the fuck gave you permission to be here, Ron?” Charlie angled Hermione away from his brother. “Did she invite you here?”

“Well, no, but –”

“Did she know you were coming?”

“No, but –”

“So you came here unannounced and you made her feel _unsafe_ in her own home, is that it?”

Ron swallowed spit and nervously scratched his jaw, like he subconsciously remembered where Charlie’s fist hit. “Listen, I just wanted to settle things. I didn’t handle them very well and – I guess – I just – it just caught me off-guard, is all. She’s Fated to you but she’s wearing Oliver’s jersey. I mean you got to know what that looks like, Char.”

“Yeah, you would fucking know,” said Hermione harshly.

Ron looked at her then at the jersey she was wearing again before looking at Charlie as though wondering why he was not reacting the way Ron perceived he ought to. Then Charlie saw realization dawn on his brother. “You’re a triad… the three of you.”

Neither Charlie nor Hermione made a move to confirm or deny the statement.

Ron swallowed and looked out the window. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Because you don’t deserve to fucking know,” said Charlie.

“Why did you come here, Ronald?” asked Hermione.

The younger Weasley heaved a sigh and Charlie saw the heaviness of it settle down on him. “I’m leaving,” he said. “Dad talked to me – _a lot_. And I – well, I didn’t really want – well – it doesn’t matter. But I quit being an auror. I’m going to focus on… on my kid…” He looked about and awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Charlie got the feeling that this was not his brother’s primary choice, but one he was forced into.

“That’s good,” said Hermione. “However it came to be, that child is still innocent.”

Ron nodded, but Charlie could see bitterness in his features. When Ron looked from him to Hermione, Charlie saw that bitterness mingle with regret. “When did – er – when did you two…” he sighed. “When did you find out?”

“The day you saw it,” said Hermione.

Ron’s jaw clenched. “So were things happening before you and –”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” said Charlie. “Don’t make yourself out to be the fucking victim, Ron. _This_ is not about you. Hermione and I didn’t go behind your back and we sure didn’t betray your trust. You know the meaning of this tattoo.” He pulled his shirt aside and showed his brother the dragon and Hermione’s name on his chest. “If this relationship came from infidelity or unfaithfulness, we wouldn’t be Fated. Nothing sacred can come from immorality. Affairs are a desecration of the holy bonds; you know that. You fucking know that.”

“But it’s a choice, isn’t it?” asked Ron.

“Yes, it is,” said Hermione and looked at him with a meaningful glare. “Isn’t it?”

Ron’s jaw clenched, but he looked at Charlie.

Charlie’s calm demeanour did not hide the harshness in his eyes or the pursing of distaste in his lips. “Everything led up to us falling in love, but that didn’t mean everything we went through had the agenda of us falling in love in it,” said Charlie. “You’re my brother. I will vow upon my magic that I didn’t fall in love with her until you two were well and truly over, if that would clear Hermione’s virtue in your eyes, because I swear, if you accuse her of something she’s not, brother, I might kill you.”

Hermione turned to him and she clenched her fists around his shirt.

Ron looked down and had the grace to be ashamed of his actions and accusations.

“She and Oliver are my priority now, Ron,” said Charlie. “Not you, not our family. It’s the two of them. Whatever we are, mum, dad and our family know about it. You don’t. Ask yourself why.”

The younger Weasley’s brows came together and Charlie saw something else in him. Defeat. When Ron heaved a shaking breath and tears poured from his eyes, Charlie was not even surprised, but he could tell Hermione was.

“Have I lost you so fast?” Ron asked, lower lip shaking.

Charlie did not know if he was speaking to him or to Hermione. Perhaps to both of them. But neither of them moved.

“I’m sorry,” said Ron. “For everything. I’m sorry.” With that, he quickly grabbed some floo powder and shouted for the Burrow in the fireplace.

When he was gone, Charlie sighed and embraced Hermione. “Are you okay?”

She nodded but still held onto him tightly. “He caught me off-guard,” she said. “I thought it was Harry coming through the floo. He freaked out that I’m wearing Oli’s jersey when I’m supposed to be Fated to you, and he started yelling and I didn’t have my wand with me.” She shook her head. “I just panicked. I – It’s too early and I just –”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” soothed Charlie. “You’re safe, Mia.”

Hermione hugged him tighter and inhaled his scent to calm her down, which made Charlie smile despite the situation they were just thrust in.

It was clear to Charlie that Ron was simply doing what their father said was the right thing to do, which was to be responsible to the woman who was carrying his child and to the child. If he were to take a guess, Charlie would say Ron had been opposed to the idea, but now that Hermione was Fated, he was forced to face the facts and chose what was right based on the fact that he had no other choice. Charlie worried how that would fare for the woman and the child. He could only hope his brother would grow up and be a man about it, and not to take out his misery on them.

As he looked down at the woman in his arms, Charlie was overwhelmed. Hermione was amazing, lovely, smart and so caring, and yet she chose him. She was young but mature beyond her years, and yet she chose _him_. Merlin, how much luckier could he get?

Amber-flecked chocolate eyes looked up at him. Such innocence and trust and beauty. Merlin, he was falling more and more in love with this woman. Charlie kissed her, hoping he could convey how grateful he was for her, that she chose him. And when he held her, Charlie settled himself in the fact that she did. She chose _him_. She _chose_ him. He was hers. She was his.

***

It was another gruelling start to the day. Last night, Oliver was so tired, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow and did not wake up until his wand alarmed this morning.

It was currently seven in the morning and Oliver and his teammates had already finished the two-hour drills on land that Isaac Morgenthau, Puddlemere United’s Team Manager, assigned them for cardio, reflex and, well, sadism. Now, they were almost to the end of the other two-hour drills on air that Morgenthau assigned them for speed, agility and also sadism. They have had a very controlled fifteen-minute break _total_ in these four hours and Oliver was beginning to comprehend his old Gryffindor teammates’ hatred of him.

For a week and a half now, Oliver had not seen his Hermione. For a long-drawn week and a half, he had had to satisfy himself with the crumbs of seeing her writing and communing with her through the twins’ miraculous notebook – which Oliver was absolutely grateful to them for and he had shown that by giving them box tickets for the rest of the season along with any member of their family they might want to bring. However, he could hardly pour out everything there because Oliver knew Hermione was finding this arrangement difficult and he wanted to be strong for her. He knew Charlie was comforting her, too, and for that he was appreciative, but he wanted to do it as well. He wanted to console her and not add to what she was feeling by saying he was dying over here. But he was _dying_ over here, unable to see her, hear her voice, run with her every morning. Merlin, what he would give to be able to hold her and kiss her again!

“Oliver, watch out!”

Oliver dove down just as a Bludger sped past where his head was a second ago.

“WOOD!” bellowed Morgenthau. “KEEP YOUR HEAD ON!”

“Aye, will nae happen again!” shouted Oliver and tried to concentrate.

Damian was coming at him head-on while Logan hovered somewhere below him. Sebastian was to his left. Damian could very well pass the Quaffle to either of them, so Oliver did his best to concentrate.

True enough, just as Damian was near enough, he dropped the Quaffle to Logan. Oliver immediately moved himself back further just as Logan rocketed up, but Oliver blocked his path. Forced, Logan passed the Quaffle to Sebastian Leeves, who rocketed to the right. Oliver flew over and extended a fist out just as their third Chaser threw the Quaffle. It connected to Oliver’s fist, blocked, and rebounded to the front. Oliver smiled to himself.

Then Logan caught the Quaffle, threw it to Damian, who was by the left hoop and scored.

Oliver dropped his chin to his chest.

“Nice hustle! Nice hustle!” said Morgenthau. “Wood! Head in the game!”

“Aye, sir,” said Oliver, defeated.

Damian flew right by him and patted his back. “You all right there, mate?”

“Fine,” lied Oliver.

“Really?” asked Sebastian, who flew up in front of him. “You’re missing half the time, Cap. What’s going on?”

Oliver shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Logan came in as well to his right. “Sure everything’s all right in Scotland, mate?”

“Yeah, you were in such an amazing mood when you came back,” said Sebastian.

“Which means,” said Damian with a sly smile and a twinkle in his eyes, “I was right all along and there’s a bird in Scotland!”

The team began to make “wooo” noises, which normally Oliver would simply bypass, but now was seriously grating on his nerves.

“Foond yerself a bonnie lass, eh, Oli?” called Keon.

“I think our little Oli’s growing up, lads,” shouted Daniel Barke, their other Beater. “I think he’s in _loooove_.”

“Oh, Oli,” said Keon in a high-pitched voice, pretending to dab the corners of his eyes. “A never thought a’d see the day! Our wee boy, all in love!”

“Where’s a Bludger when ye need wan?” muttered Oliver and simply shook his head.

“Who’s the bird, Oli?” asked Illium, grinning widely and waggling his eyebrows. “Is it, perchance, someone we know?”

“Go back and run the drills again,” said Oliver, but his teammates would not leave.

“Ooooh,” said Damian. “I think you’re onto something, Priest!”

“Perhaps,” said Illium, “a witch with lovely brown hair?”

The others in the team were hollering and whooping.

“Who is it?” asked Sebastian with a grin.

“Percase,” said Illium, “one who works with dragons with my sister?”

Oliver looked up at their silver-haired Seeker. “What?”

Illium chuckled. “It’s just that she’s right down there, mate.” He pointed down and Oliver, along with everyone in the team, looked down, and sure enough, talking to Morgenthau on the platform was Hermione Jean Granger.

She was wearing a white form-fitting shirt today and a pair of what she told him before was called bellbottom jeans that did things for her arse and to Oliver’s heart rate. And even from this distance, Oliver could clearly see the outline of her forearm tattoo, which only elevated his heart rate all the more.

Morgenthau pointed his wand to his throat and looked up at the team. “Go for a break, lads! Wood, in my office, now!”

Oliver did not wait to be told twice. He quickly swooped down, ignoring the questions of his teammates, and landed on the stairs going up the main building. He jumped off his broom, shrunk it and put it into his pocket as he fell into step right behind Morgenthau and Hermione, then had to reel himself in from the fact that he was eye-level with his Fated’s lovely arse. Merlin’s bahooky and Morgana’s saggy tits, this separation was driving him mental!

They entered into Morgenthau’s office and as soon as the door was shut, Oliver felt a silencing charm enclose the room.

“Miss Granger, how can I help you?” asked Morgenthau, gesturing the both of them to the two chairs opposite his desk as he, too, took his seat.

“I was wondering if Mister Wood has informed you of our situation?” asked Hermione, crossing her legs and placing her clasped hands over her knee. Her Fated tattoo was in full view though Oliver’s name had been Glamoured. Still, it did not quench the possessive feeling that grasped Oliver’s chest at seeing the same mark on her skin that matched his own.

Oliver resolved to tear his eyes away from his Fated and focused on his manager. This was not going well for him, composure-wise.

“That you are Fated?” asked Morgenthau. “Yes, he has informed –”

“And has he given a written letter asking for flexibility in his accommodations?”

Morgenthau nodded. “Yes, he has –”

“And what is your response to that?”

Morgenthau raised an eyebrow and glanced at Oliver before focusing on Hermione. “I am still deliberating.”

“Why, may I ask?”

An unbelieving smile crossed Morgenthau’s features. “No, Miss Granger, you may not. You see, this is _my team_ and I will do what I see fit for us to win this year.”

Hermione calmly smiled at him. “I was afraid you’d say that.” She uncrossed her leg and crossed the other one. “You see I was talking to my brother, Harry Potter, last night. He does not like to see me distressed, you know, so he did some investigation, as he is wont to do now that he’s an auror, at the advice of our ally and close friend, Kings – _Minister_ Shacklebolt, and he brought to my attention this wonderful old and sacred law from the Wizangamot, approved in the year 708 and amended in 1407 that states all establishments, businesses, social clubs and employs that mandate housing _must_ allow their Fated employees either flexible accommodations – where their employees could live elsewhere aside from the fixed accommodation, or the inclusion of their Fated into their accommodation.”

Oliver could see Morgenthau swallowing spit. Hermione regarded the man with a gentle smile.

“Any Fated employees _must_ give a formal letter to inform their employers of their status and may request for either. Furthermore, it is absolutely _mandated_ by the Wizangamot that the employers _allow_ such request due to the sacred power of the ancient magics involved in the choosing of the Fated, especially the rarest of the three, in which Magic herself chooses the witches and wizards involved. Any such _disrespect_ or _disregard_ for the magic of the Fated is punishable by fifty years imprisonment in the very depths of Azkaban.”

Morgenthau was beginning to sweat and fidget.

“Fortunately for you,” continued Hermione, “the law dictates that a period of two weeks may be taken into consideration for what is best between the Fated. And also, fortunately for you –” she brought out a couple of folders from her beaded bag “– I have a written analysis of options for the best courses of action for our case.” She handed the files over.

Morgenthau looked through them.

Oliver was quite impressed. Morgenthau was often stone-faced when dealing with the media and fanatics and even haters. Nevertheless, now he was nervous faced with Hermione Granger.

Then again, Oliver supposed, his Fated was known for her brains and the fact that she was at the forefront of the war against Voldemort himself. Many theories had been tossed around the media, especially after she began to show her scars in public, of how she had gotten those, specifically that derogatory word carved into her arm. Most suspected that she was tortured. Most knew she was only eighteen during the war. Most have concluded a Death Eater had done it, and most had come to the conclusion that Bellatrix Lestrange had been the culprit. Taking all of that into account, yes, Oliver thought, Morgenthau did have every right to be nervous.

“These,” said Morgenthau, swallowing, “are saying that there are –”

“Three of us Fated, yes,” said Hermione. She pointed a wand at her arm and said, “ _Finite_.” Oliver’s name bloomed boldly in black and a sense of pride spread in the Scot’s chest at the sight of it. Hermione stood and turned around and showed Morgenthau her back, pulling her hair to the side and her shirt downwards to reveal Charlie’s name, then sat back down.

“A – a triad?” Morgenthau’s eyes were bulging out of his head.

“That’s right,” said Hermione, crossing her legs once more.

Oliver tightly clasped his hands, wanting nothing more than to run his hands through those long legs in that tight – _Damn it! Focus, Oli!_

“And before you say why can’t I simply be with my other Fated,” said Hermione, “I would like to remind you that any spell I cast in defence to an insult to the legitimacy of my Fated will be absolved in the court of law by the Wizangamot in accordance to the Defence Protocols for Oppression Against the Sacred Fated written in 710 that states –”

Morgenthau raised his hands and shook his head. “Miss Granger, Miss Granger, I believe you and I was not going to insult your relationship, believe me.” He heaved a sigh. “I will seriously consider your proposition and I will ensure to read this through thoroughly.”

Hermione smiled, genuinely this time. “I’m glad. Thank you.”

His manager looked at Oliver. “Anything to say?”

Oliver suppressed a smile. “Just a reminder tha’ tomorrow marks the end af the two-week consideration period.”

Morgenthau’s jaw clenched slightly. “Then I shall ensure that I will have read through this and responded by the end of the day.”

“Much appreciated… sir.”

Morgenthau looked back at Hermione. “Since I will be granting Wood his flexibility in accommodation, may I ask if you two are informing the rest of the team of your circumstances?”

Hermione and Oliver looked at each other.

“Can we talk aboot this fer a second, sir?” asked Oliver.

Morgenthau nodded. “Come back to me as soon as you can.”

Oliver rose up and so did Hermione, applying Glamour non-verbally to her tattoos as she did. He ushered her out of the office and towards the glass lifts where he pressed for the third floor. They could see the countryside and the pitch outside.

“Where are we?” asked Hermione, looking out at the gorgeous view of green pastures and rolling hills. “I mean you told me Puddlemere Compound in your letters, but well…”

“Countryside somewhere in Wales,” said Oliver. “We’re not informed exactly where as a drunken mishap could have anyone slipping something tae a groupie or the media and we’re done fer. It’s the headquarters af the team whenever we’re here. It’s deserted enough tha’ the trees and the wards over there can distract the few muggles tha’ pass by from us flying aroond. We’ve got accommodations, offices, the pitch and some mair amenities and facilities aroond here.”

Hermione nodded her head. From her reflection on the glass, Oliver could see her biting her lip. Merlin, what was this woman doing to him?

As soon as they arrived on his floor, Oliver quickly walked down the hall and turned right. At the very end was his room and he swiftly opened the door and let her in.

“Oli, I’m so sorry,” said Hermione as soon as he closed the door and warded the room.

“Why?” asked Oliver, slowing down.

She looked apprehensive. “I know I should not have just barged in here and disrupted your practice. It’s just that – I just – well, I –”

Oliver strode over and pulled her to him and kissed her. Maybe it was rude to interrupt her train of thought like that, but Oliver had waited _a week and a half_ for this moment and his patience and self-control had gone out the window. He pushed her back onto a wall and picked her up by her thighs. Hermione responded by wrapping her arms and her legs around him and Oliver moaned, his hands gripping her thighs tighter.

When the need for oxygen became too great, Oliver broke the kiss and trailed kisses down Hermione’s neck instead.

“I take it you’re not mad at me?” asked his witch.

“Why would a be mad?” asked Oliver right back.

“Oh, you know, storming over here, disrupting practise – _oh!_ ” she groaned when Oliver sucked on her pulse point and it made him grin. “Um, also, subtly threatening your boss?”

“Naw,” said Oliver, kissing across her collarbone and watching her tattoo of Luminaria light up. “Tha’ was actually wan af the sexiest things ye’ve ever done.”

“Huh,” said Hermione, panting now. “What else do you find sexy then?”

“These jean on ye,” said Oliver, running one hand up her thigh and then cupping her bottom. “And this.”

Hermione gave a breathy giggle. “Should we maybe talk about what we’re supposed to be talking about?”

“Hmm.” Oliver cupped her cheek and kissed her again, flicking his tongue at her bottom lip. When Hermione opened up for him and let her tongue dance with his, he had to suppress a moan. And then she ran her teeth on his tongue and bit his lip. Oliver could not help it. That time, he did moan and when she let go, buried his face onto her neck, hugging her tight.

Hermione responded in kind and hugged him, too.

Oliver had to make sure to breathe and distance his pelvis from hers because he had a very _prominent_ problem that he knew Hermione was not ready for yet. His witch ran her nails up and down his spine to soothe him and it reminded Oliver of what she did with Luminaria that it made him smile and distracted him enough to ease up the _situation_.

Slowly, he put her down and they parted. Once more, he saw the beautiful eyes of his beloved and was graced by her wonderful smile. “Fuck, yer gorgeous.”

Hermione smirked. “So are you, Mister Keeper.”

Oliver grunted and hung his head. “Ye’ve got tae stop turning me on, lass.”

Hermione giggled and pulled him onto the foot of his bed where they both sat. “So… _Oliver_ …” She looked around his micro apartment, the small kitchen and his desk before looking back at him. “What do you think?”

The Scot took a deep breath and expelled it. “Should Morgenthau choose, would ye be a’right tae come here with mae?”

Hermione nodded her head. “In one of the options I wrote down in the documents, it states either you or I can spend time in both residences. It does not have to be full-time. At least three times a week, you can stay with me or I can stay with you, whichever may be the case.”

Relief took over Oliver. “A shouldnae have doubted ye. A knew ye were going tae cover all bases.” He chuckled.

“Are there any other partners of the team here?”

Oliver nodded his head. “Our reserve players are mostly married, so their spouses and partners are here most af the time. And Daniel and Sebastian have their lasses aroond, tae. Keon’s fiancée drops by time and again.”

“Have you told your teammates about us?”

Oliver shook his head. “They’ve gotten glimpses af my tattoo, but since most af the time yer name is Glamoured and am in gear, they havnae been able tae connect the pieces tagether. Damian is pushing it, though, as usual, and a knoo Logan is ontae mae, but he never says anything, so am good.”

“Do you want me there when we tell them?”

Oliver took her hand and kissed it. “Absolutely.”

Hermione smiled then she opened her beaded bag. “I’ve got these for you.”

She gave him a stack of parchments neatly rolled and it intrigued Oliver. Opening it, his mouth fell entirely and he glanced through all of them in succession. These were his old letters to her that he had never sent. What was more, she had responded to them.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hadn’t thought about you for five days and I’m quite proud of my accomplishment, but I’ve failed today. Today, I learnt of what Ron has done and I want to fly to where you are and assure you’re all right. But I know I can’t and I know you’re not all right. What I wouldn’t give to make sure you’re_

**_Dear Oliver,_ **

**_I’ve done nothing but think about you for the past how many days. So much so that your mother had had to bring me to your room and speak to me about the fact that it was all right for me to miss you. Because I do, and it hurts, and I know it feels the same for you as well. But I promise I’ll make things better. I don’t want to be parted from you for this long again._ **

_Dear Hermione,_

_I have this image of you smiling in the light of the fire, looking right at the flames with a twinkle in your eyes. There’s contentment in you that nothing and no one can take and it’s forever burned into my mind since I saw you at Avienne’s party. Whenever I read the_ Prophet _, that’s what I imagine, because I know you’re strong. I know you can make it through this. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever_

A drawing of Hermione was at the bottom of the parchment, perfectly depicting what Oliver had described in the letter, down to the light of the flames, which she had coloured beautifully.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I miss you. I miss being near you. I miss hearing your laughter. I miss making you laugh. And it hurts, it physically hurts, not seeing you. But what hurts all the more is the fact that I can’t tell you how I feel_

**_Dear Oliver,_ **

**_I miss you, too. Charlie misses you, too. Our dragons, all three of them, miss you, too. And we’re all looking forward to seeing you again._ **

_Dear Hermione,_

_Do you have any idea how badly I want to tell you truth?_

**_Dear Oliver,_ **

**_You know my truth, our truth. No matter the distance, no matter the situation, I am yours and you are mine. And nothing in all the world can nor will be able to change that._ **

_~~Dear Hermione,~~ _

_~~My dear Hermione,~~ _

_My Hermione. I’m falling in love with you I’m consumed by it._

**_My Oliver. I’m falling in love with you I’m consumed by it._ **

Oliver looked up at the smiling face of his beloved whose eyes were looking at him with pure adoration. “D’ye mean it?”

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I’m falling in love with you, Oliver Wood.”

He smiled. “And am in love with ye, Hermione Granger.”

Hermione gave him lingering chaste kisses on the lips three times. Oliver could fly without his broom.

Oliver cleared his throat as they entered the lounge room and the team looked up either from the buffet table or from their collapsed positions on the couches.

“Hey babe!” greeted Damian with a flirtatious wink. “Missed me?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s not even eight in the morning, Lazarev. Can you not?”

“We have an important announcement tae make,” said Oliver and gestured towards the couches.

The team made their way over, Illium and Logan kissing Hermione on the cheek. Damian tried but got a stinging hex for his efforts, to the amusement of Keon and Daniel.

“Everything all right in the Reserve?” asked Illium.

Hermione nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine. This isn’t about that.”

“Oh shit!” gasped Lyle Spinnet. He was the Reserve Beater and the older brother of Alicia Spinnet. “Is that a Fated tattoo?”

Everyone’s eyes gravitated towards Hermione’s forearm.

“You’re Fated?” asked Logan in shock and awe.

“Babe!” shouted Damian, looking absolutely distressed. “To whom?”

“Take a wild guess,” said Sebastian, who was already cheekily smiling.

All eyes went to Oliver, who pulled his Quidditch uniform to the side to reveal his collarbone tattoo and Hermione’s name, just as Hermione removed the Glamour from her tattoo.

Shouts of shock, surprise and excitement erupted, ranging from the old but gold “Oh shit!” and “Bloody hell!” to different, more creative things concerning Merlin’s bollocks. Oliver had to suppress another smile.

“But what about us, babe?” asked Damian melodramatically.

Hermione chose to ignore him and Oliver addressed the team.

“A knoo ye lot have questions,” he said. “Hermione and a will nae be answering anything just yet. Ye knoo what kind af things she has been facing in the media and a dinnae want this tae add tae tha’.”

“But yer Fated, Oli,” said Keon. “Everyone’s bound tae respect tha’.”

Oliver and Hermione looked at each other then Oliver looked at his teammate. “It’s mair complicated than tha’ and at the moment, until _we_ decide we’re ready tae speak aboot it, we’d really appreciate if ye lot keep this quiet, even with yer other halves.”

“Absolutely, mate.”

“Definitely, Oli.”

“You can count on us, man, of course.”

As everyone in the team and the reserves agreed, Hermione and Oliver smiled.

“Is this why you had to leave to Scotland?” asked Miko Lynch, their Reserve Keeper.

“Aye,” said Oliver.

“That’s when your Fated tattoo showed?” asked Logan, shocked. “That’s about two weeks! And this one is absolutely rare. What triggered it?”

“Naw questions, Logue,” reminded Oliver.

“Will you be living here then, Hermione?” asked Illium, ignoring Oliver. “Or is Oli going to live in the Reserve?”

“Morgenthau’s still thinking it through,” said Hermione.

“Fuck, mate, have you told him to hurry up?” asked Simon Meeks, the Reserve Seeker. “There’s only two weeks consultation time on this before a case can be legally filed against him for violating the law.”

“As Hermione has kindly pointed oot tae him,” said Oliver, looking proudly at his Fated.

“He knows,” said Hermione smugly. “Don’t worry. I won’t cost you your team manager.”

“Blimey, you’re hot when you’re being brilliantly sexy,” said Damian.

Hermione smiled at him, which triggered Oliver’s alert sensors and he waited in anticipation for what she was going to do.

“In any case,” said Logan, “the rest of us _respectfully_ congratulate and support the both of you.” He stood and hugged Hermione and patted Oliver on the back. That seemed to be the catalyst for the rest of the team to congratulate them as well.

Oliver introduced Hermione to the rest of the Reserves including Rory Davidson and Denny Johnson, Angelina Johnson’s cousin, the Reserve Chasers. It was quite amusing to see all of them looking at her with giddy smiles, knowing they were in the presence of a war heroine and an _Order of Merlin: First Class_ recipient.

“Babe, I’m absolutely heartbroken about this,” said Damian. “But that’s okay, because I need you to know that I care about Oliver and I still love you.”

“That’s nice,” said Hermione and turned to Oliver. “When Morgenthau comes to a decision, make sure to let me know immediately. I have my _notebook_ with me at all times, so I’ll be on hand, okay?”

“Absolutely,” said Oliver, smirking.

“Babe, pay attention to me,” whined Damian and attempted to hold her hand, which she quickly put behind her back.

“Also,” said Hermione, determined to only look at Oliver, “I’ve snuck into your locker earlier and wrote something down on the _notebook_. See if you can find it.” She flirtatiously winked at Oliver.

“Yer on.” Oliver reminded himself to get a camera ready. Surely, Damian’s pain would be something he would not want Hermione to miss out on.

“And how did you know which locker is Oliver’s?” asked Damian.

“How did you even know where the locker room is?” asked Sebastian. “You’ve never been here before.”

Hermione simply shrugged. “I broke into Gringott’s. You think Puddlemere United’s compound would perplex me?”

“You WHAT?!” Logan, Keon and Illium bellowed.

“Ha-ha, she’s joking, right? Right? Guys?” Sebastian looked around at the others and at Oliver, but came to the conclusion that she was not. At that point, his jaw fell.

Meanwhile, half the team was looking at her in absolute awe.

“Technically, that wasn’t a confession,” said Hermione. “But nonetheless, let’s keep this between us.”

“Cap, good luck with her,” said Daniel sympathetically, which made Hermione chuckle.

“I’m in love,” said Damian.

“With yourself? We know.” Hermione took Oliver’s hand and pulled him towards the door. “It was nice to meet you all. Bye!”

Oliver burst into laughter as soon as they rounded a corner and so did Hermione. “Ye are the _best_ tha’s ever happened tae mae!” he said, picking her up and spinning her around.

“Oh, a dinnae ken aboot tha’,” said Hermione, mimicking his accent.

“So damn sexy,” said Oliver as he put her back down.

Hermione raked her nails across his scalp and perched her hands on the back of his neck. Seriousness took over her features. “Ron came to my cottage this morning.”

Oliver’s smile disappeared. “What? Why? What did he want?”

“To talk, settle things. He’s leaving, presumably for France. He’s going to focus on his kid.”

Oliver nodded. “Tha’s… unexpected.”

Hermione nodded, too. “He freaked out on me though. Good thing Charlie came.”

Oliver’s brows came together in concern. “Are ye a’right? He didnae hurt ye, did he?”

“No, no, just – he started yelling and –” she sighed and shook her head. “It’s okay. It’s over now. I’m just glad he’s leaving.”

“Relieved, more like.”

Hermione smiled a little. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, that’s it.” She looked up at him. “Just you and me and Charlie.”

Oliver pulled her closer by her hips. “A like tha’.”

“Speaking of… Charlie and I will be here for your game tomorrow.”

Oliver smiled. “A ken… Am looking forward tae seeing ye.”

Hermione rubbed the tip of her nose against his. “By the way, I apologize for going through your things.”

“Dinnae care. Tha’ was an amazing gift ye gave mae, love.”

Hermione’s smile at the endearment only solidified it even more for Oliver. “I also stole one of your jerseys, by the way,” she said with a blush.

Oliver’s eyebrows went up.

“And I plan on wearing it tomorrow.”

Oliver moaned and buried his face on her neck once more. “Witch, a dinnae ken if yer being good or bad. What the hell are ye doing tae mae?”

Hermione bit his earlobe and whispered, “All good things, Mister Keeper. All good things.”

Oliver kissed her. Hard.

Only when they heard the team coming out of the lounge did they part and reluctantly, Hermione made her way to the fireplace. Oliver kissed the back of her hand three times before allowing her to leave, calling for the Scotland Dragon Reserve Central. Only when she had gone did Oliver breathe again. Turning around, he paused to see Morgenthau leaning on his office door watching him.

“Inside.”

“Aye, sir.”

When the door was shut, Morgenthau regarded Oliver behind his desk. “She’s a formidable woman, that Fated of yours.”

“She’s been fighting Voldemort –” Morgenthau winced “– and helping Harry Potter stay alive and save the wizarding world since the age af eleven, sir. Personally, a dinnae expect anything less.”

Morgenthau nodded. “Well, since that is the case, I am approving you for flexible accommodation. At least three times a week every fortnight, I am allowing you to go to Scotland Dragon Reserve and be with your Fated. And every fortnight, she may come here to stay with you. Unless, of course, there are urgent matters that require you to be here, at which point, I hope switching the schedule would not be a problem. Both she and Mister Weasley will be welcomed.” Morgenthau wrote a note into one of his parchments. “I’ll have to move your accommodations up to the fourth floor, give you a bigger room. I’ll have the documents drafted and copied and sent to Miss Granger as soon as possible. Sound fair?”

“Aye, sir, thank ye.” Oliver extended his hand to his manager.

Morgenthau shook it and regarded his Keeper seriously. “She’s one hell of a powerful witch, Oliver.” He must really mean it, as Morgenthau rarely used his given name. “And I’m sure whatever the circumstances that the three of you are chosen by magic to be Fated is one hell of a circumstance as well, but I wish you all the best. And if you ever need support, we’re here. I apologize that I put the needs of the team before your bond. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

Oliver gave his team manager a smile. “Much appreciated, sir. What say ye we run those drills again?”

Morgenthau smiled as well. “Let’s.”

***

Serrilda appeared before Hermione in all her glory yet all around her was still a hazy white. The Viking queen looked at Hermione with an uneven smile. “You are doing well, Rider,” she said and began to walk. Hermione supposed she was walking with the Viking though she could not see herself in this scape, but knew that she was somehow here since Serrilda did manage to hold her arm last time.

“What is this, Serrilda?” asked Hermione. “And what are these dreams?”

“Dis,” said Serrilda, “is da state of consciousness where you become aware of what lies beyond da physical plane and transcend time itself. Da magic of da Timeless does dat. As you know, your Lumi is da sevent incarnation of da Viking’s Trone. ‘Er magic now is more powerful dan it 'as ever been through the millennia and she chose you.” She stopped and turned to Hermione. “Do you know what dat means, ‘Ermione Granyer?”

Hermione shook her head.

“Dat means you _perfectly match_ wit da power of da Timeless. It means your magic is unblemished and untainted by dark magic. It means you are pure.” Serrilda squeezed her arm and they walked again. “Da magic of da Timeless brings with it its ancestors. Do you know what dat means?”

“It means,” said Hermione, “that Lumi is one with all her previous incarnations.” She looked up at the Viking queen. “Do they visit her, Serrilda? Is that why she has nightmares sometimes?”

Serrilda nodded her head. “Dey teach ‘er and dey inform ‘er of da past. Dey are preparing ‘er just as we are preparing you. You ‘ave the knowledge and experience of every King and Queen Rider before you, which is why you _must_ learn dis first, so dat when you need us, we may come, and when we need taw, we may appear.”

“We are one, too,” said Hermione, stating it as fact. “Made possible by Lumi’s magic.”

A crooked smile and a nod was her reward.

“Do you have access to the future?” asked Hermione.

Serrilda squinted her eyes in thought. “Der are sacred magics dat should not be touched, ‘Ermione. Time is one of dem. Should the need arise and evil must be stopped, we can warn you, but we cannot meddle wit tings in the present for any oder reason. Mistakes will be made and decisions will be met with disappointments and regrets, but dat is da price any ‘uman must face in order taw grow.”

Hermione nodded her understanding. “What else will you teach me?” she asked.

Serrilda stopped walking and regarded her fondly with the edge of a warrior regarding a trainee. “I will teach you ‘ow taw be strong. I will teach you ‘ow taw fight. I will challenge you beyond what you tink you are capable but first you must do someting for me.”

“What is it?”

Serrilda smiled a wicked smile.

***

Charlie sat with his eyes closed by the steps of the playing pit with Hermione sat between his legs. He was holding onto her hands and practicing his breathing, being aware all the while of both their magical cores. At the moment, he could feel Hermione’s core glowing a bright yellow and it was pulsating, soothed only by his blue magical core that wrapped around hers in the same embrace as his arms.

So far today, they have made quite a progress. Hermione kept trying to call on the Riders and the length of their interaction had lengthened considerably. This was the third attempt and by far the longest time she had been in meditation. Charlie could only hope it meant everything was going well.

Slowly, Hermione’s even breath quickened and soon enough, she sagged on his chest and slowly blinked herself back to this world.

“Hi…” said Charlie softly, running his thumbs in circles on her hand.

“Hi…” she responded and fluttered those beautiful amber-flecked chocolate eyes open. She smiled. “How long was I out?”

Charlie looked at the timer Avienne had left out. “Half an hour.”

“That’s good.” Hermione stretched and sagged back down to his chest.

Charlie kissed the back of her neck. “Anything?”

“Hmm… I need to talk to Caine, but first…” she looked around “Avienne! Come here, please. Bring Lumi.”

The silver-haired witch looked up from where she was watching Nazuri and Lumi play with Memphis and rushed over to them with the little black dragon in her arms. “Hey, how was it?”

“It went well,” said Hermione and took her dragon.

Lumi carefully lowered herself onto Hermione’s waiting arms and nuzzled her. _You did so well, Mia!_ The little one encouraged.

Hermione smiled. “Thanks, sweetie. Were you listening in?”

Charlie felt Lumi go shy. _A little. Is that okay? I was just concerned._

“Aww… I love you so much, my little dragon!” Hermione showered her with kisses that made the little dragon preen and glow slightly before returning to her normal colouration. Charlie looked on fondly at the both of them.

“I need to practice something,” said Hermione. “Will you help me?”

Lumi excitedly purred. _Yes! Yes! Of course!_

Hermione looked up at Avienne, who was removing her dragon-hide jacket to join her gloves on the floor. “Serrilda wanted me to do something. She said in order for me to be taught properly, I would need help and that begins now.”

Avienne was already nodding in agreement as she knelt in front of Hermione. “Absolutely. What do you need me to do?”

“Close your eyes.”

Avienne immediately did what she was told.

Charlie watched as Lumi closed her eyes and began to glow. At the same time, he felt Hermione’s magical core reach towards her dragon and the moment their cores met, Charlie felt the amazing strength of Lumi’s power. It winded him, completely knocking the breath out of him. It also made him wonder how come Hermione was not reacting as he was. Then it hit him. They were perfectly matched in power.

Hermione lifted up her hand and hovered her fingertips onto Avienne’s forehead. The moment she touched her, the silver-haired woman gasped. The air around them was thick with magic. Lumi roared a few times then Hermione withdrew her hand.

Avienne fell to the side, puffing, and opened her eyes widely, blinking out what must have been spots in her vision. “Salazar’s beard!”

Hermione chuckled and peppered Lumi with kisses once more and the little one giggled. “Did you see then?”

“Hell yeah, I saw!” exclaimed Avienne.

“Saw what?” asked Memphis, bringing Nazuri along towards them.

“Serrilda,” answered Avienne. “Boy, she’s fierce! And holy crap, she seems like she could be ruthless!”

 _Yeah, she is!_ Lumi happily squawked.

 _Holy crap!_ Nazuri copied.

“Nazuri, no foul language,” scolded Charlie.

 _But auntie Avi said it_ , said Nazuri.

“Avienne, watch your mouth,” chastised Charlie. “Nazuri’s copying you.”

“Sorry,” said Avienne, wincing.

 _Holy crap!_ Nazuri said again.

“Naz…” warned Charlie.

The little tyke chuckled. _Sorry, Da._

“Serrilda requested something,” said Hermione, getting back on topic. “She wants to talk to Caine.”

Avienne’s eyes widened and then she burst into laughter. “I want to see this so badly, you have no idea!”

Hermione was blushing a bit, but Charlie could not help to notice she was also tired.

“Why don’t you eat first, Mia?” he suggested. Anything else could wait. She needed to be strong again.

Hermione smiled appreciatively at him, blushing slightly at the nickname and looking at him with soft eyes that melted his insides. “Sounds good.”

 _Are we going to the cafeteria, Da?_ Nazuri asked.

“You can come if you behave,” said Charlie.

 _I wanna come_ , said Nazuri and glanced up at Memphis. _I can behave. I like Memfish anyway._

“Memphis,” said Hermione.

“What?” asked Memphis.

“No, I’m correcting Nazuri,” said Hermione.

The dark-skinned keeper raised an eyebrow. “Why? What does he call me?”

“Mem-fish,” said Charlie.

Memphis chuckled. “You’re cute, little red.”

 _I’m not cute! I’m tough!_ Nazuri objected with a growl. _Da, tell him I’m tough!_

“He said you’re cute. Deal with it,” said Charlie with a cheeky smile.

Nazuri pouted and blew grey smoke from his nostrils in protest.

***

After lunch, Hermione made her way to Caine’s office with her Charlie, her dragon and Avienne, while Memphis and Nazuri stayed in the cafeteria. Truth be told, she was a bit nervous of the fact that Serrilda wanted to speak with the directorial manager in person. The Viking queen was intimidating as she was and Hermione knew the only reason she was not scared of her was because they were connected. If Serrilda deemed Caine an insubordinate, Merlin knew what the Viking queen would do to “amend” that situation.

As soon as they entered and closed the door, Caine looked slightly worried. Hermione got the impression that the director was still thinking of the other time she showed up in his office with an entourage, where a Ridgeback came and roared right on the other side of his glass wall.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Caine asked stiffly. “Though I must say, the patronous to actually book an appointment was a first.”

“We thought it was appropriate,” said Avienne.

Hermione gave him a small smile as she and Avienne sat on the chairs in front of the director’s desk. Charlie stationed himself behind Hermione, holding onto her shoulder in silent support, and Hermione appreciated him all the more for it.

 _It’s okay, Mia_ , soothed Lumi. _We can do this._ Her tiny voice strengthened Hermione’s resolve and melted her nerves.

“Sir,” Hermione began, hoping to elevate some of the tension by addressing him as she used to when she first started and before all this began. “As you know, our team has been studying, not only my bond with Lumi and her heritage, but also my capabilities as a Rider.”

“That is outside of the parameters of your job,” said Caine with a huff. He regarded Avienne with fierce eyes. “You were supposed to be restricting the research to Granger’s bond with the dragon and nothing more, Arkady. These dreams, yes, we know they are important and informative, but we cannot record them.”

“Sir, with all due respect,” said Avienne, “these are all interconnected. Hermione’s bond with Lumi is _because_ she is the Chosen Rider and –”

“But we cannot waste our resources on this alone,” reasoned Caine. “Our main concern is the dragons, Arkady. Granger has her Fated. We need to focus now on the effects of the Viking’s Throne Dragon on the others.”

Avienne protested. “But we cannot do that –”

“Then find a way,” said Caine firmly. He looked at Charlie then Hermione and Luminaria on her lap. “Anything else?”

Hermione sighed. No wonder Serrilda wanted to talk to him. “Today, I’ve learnt that the dreams are a tool for me to be taught and prepared.”

“Then that should solve our problems.”

“As it is, there are a few things I cannot tell you… But I can show you.”

Caine’s eyebrow lifted in curiosity. “Show me what exactly?”

Hermione stood and placed Luminaria onto his desk. “I can _only_ show you.” The little dragon began to glow and Hermione felt their magical cores link up. “Sir, I will need to touch you in order for this to work. And please remember… show respect.”

Hesitance showed in Caine’s features before resolve took over. “All right then.”

Hermione breathed in deep and concentrated. The moment she touched her fingertips to Caine’s forehead, she was instantly brought back to where she would meet with Serrilda.

“Where are we?” asked Caine, his voice echoing.

“Nowhere,” answered Hermione. She looked around but could not see the Viking Queen. “We are at a plane of nonexistence, which transcends time itself and the physical meets the spiritual.”

Caine was looking about in the plain white nowhere, looking slightly out of depth and concerned. “Uh… huh… Now wha – _whoa!_ ”

Hermione turned around and, suddenly, Serrilda appeared. Black war paint smeared across her eyes, making the grey orbs fiercer, and it marred her blonde hair so it looked dirty. The white wolf fur across her shoulders seemed bigger than before and, more concerning, her sword was unsheathed and currently pointed at Caine’s neck.

“Hermione!” called Caine.

Foreign language spilled out of Serrilda’s lips sounding fierce, threatening and brokering no arguments.

“I don’t know! I can’t understand you!” shouted Caine in a panic, his hand reaching closer to his wand, but one growl from Serrilda made him forget all about it.

Hermione did not move. Under normal circumstances, she would have defended those who were threatened and stepped into the situation to try and deescalate it. Try for peace – that was always her move. However, Hermione’s instinct told her this was necessary. This was the way of the Viking, of which she now was. This was her path. She had been grafted into this ancestry by Magic herself, chosen by the ancient Timeless, destined by Fate. She knew Serrilda would do what she must in order for Hermione’s training, education and preparation to get on its way. And if violence must happen and a hand must be forced… it was the Viking way.

“Who are you?” asked Serrilda in a rougher tongue than she normally used with Hermione.

“Ma – Marcus – Marcus Caine,” replied the director.

“And who are you, Marcus Caine, taw come ‘ere witout _respect_?”

The director’s eyes bulged wide.

“Bow,” said Hermione authoritatively.

Caine glanced at her and, despite the blade on his throat, began to lower himself into a bow.

Serrilda conceded and pointed her sword down. However, she did not sheath it. “I am Serrilda,” she said, “fourt of da Riders and guide taw da destined Queen of Dragons.” She walked right to Caine’s face. “You know who the destined Queen is?”

Caine inclined his head. “I do.”

“Den why is she not given due _respect_?” Serrilda slowly asked through gritted teeth.

All around them, dragons landed, the thuds of their feet near deafening and each one a version of Luminaria from times past. Byrnjar was the biggest of them by far. Each roared in a way that shook the plane they were on, and Hermione was sure she and Caine trembled in the physical world. Then the dragons set their green eyes fiercely at the director. Behind each dragon, a Rider sat, each one with a face of disdain, disappointment and disapproval.

“I – I – I don’t –” Caine stammered.

“Enough!” shouted Serrilda. “As destined Queen, ‘Ermione must know ‘er dragons. It is ‘er duty taw ensure der wellbeing. Given dat she works in a Dragon Reserve, dat should make tings easier. In any case, she cannot daw ‘er job if you restrict ‘er.”

“This takes precedence,” said Solveig, her voice commanding, demanding. “Alloo her access tae the dragons along with her Fated and the Timeless. They need tae be aware and introduced tae each dragon closely. Ye cannae expect the loyalty af those under yer command if ye dinnae let them knoo ye and if ye dinnae knoo them in turn.”

There was a loud thud behind Hermione that did not make her flinch, as though she knew it was coming and she knew who made it. True enough, she was not even surprised when Herlief walked past her and towered over Caine.

“The dragons will behave in the presence af their destined Queen,” he slowly said to Caine as though he was talking to someone who could not quite understand properly. “But deny them their destined Queen and they will revolt. The next move is up tae ye.”

Herlief pushed Caine and sent him back to the physical world. Then he turned back to Hermione and winked.

Hermione simply smiled and held her fist to her chest before she curtsied low in deep gratitude. She felt, instead of saw, those around her bow as well before she took a deep breath and opened her eyes back into the physical world.

***

Caine was sweating profusely. Charlie was getting nervous. Still, he made no move and simply watched his Fated and her dragon. Avienne had asked him a couple of times what he thought was happening, but Charlie could not bear to speak just yet. He could hear their voices and what they were saying through Lumi. The rough speech must have been Serrilda. She was as savage as he had imagined based on what Avienne said earlier, but he could have sworn Hermione mentioned that she was nice to her. Perhaps Serrilda’s niceness ran out.

Then he heard the footfalls and the roaring of the dragons. Caine jerked wildly a few times and Hermione flinched, but Charlie was completely taken aback. How many dragons were there?

Then he heard a Scottish woman speak. It could only be Solveig, as he was sure Hermione had not spoken to Rowena just yet. He wondered if it was only the Riders present or their Fated, too. Either way, what a terrifying experience it must be for Caine.

A Scottish man with a deep voice spoke with a slowness that was almost mocking, but his message and the underlying threat was clear. When Caine tumbled back to his seat, looking as though he wanted to run out of the office, Charlie held his breath. Then Hermione came back, as gently and as smoothly as she did earlier. Charlie watched her for any sign of weakness and found none.

Caine looked up at Hermione with new awe and, dare Charlie say it, respect. “I apologize.”

Hermione inclined her head graciously. “I am not asking to be taken out of the roster,” she said gently. “I still work here and it is still my job to look after the newborns. Of that, I have no issue. But Luminaria cannot be contained in the Crèche. As young as she is, we do have a job to do that surpasses that of the limitations that is in place for us.”

Caine nodded his head fiercely. “I – I will redraft your contract, along with Weasley, and ensure you are able to do your duties.”

“I need Oliver included whenever he is here.”

“Consider it done.”

“And the research?” asked Avienne.

“Do what you must,” said Caine quickly.

Hermione inclined her head again. “Thank you for your understanding.”

 _Mia…_ Lumi called. She was staring at the side of Caine’s desk. _There’s a curse in there._

Charlie’s forehead creased.

“There’s a curse in one of your drawers,” Hermione told Caine.

Slowly, Caine opened the drawer and levitated several envelopes out.

Lumi shook her head. _Not there._ She hobbled over to the edge of the drawer and looked down. _The Stem and the ink._

“The Stem and the ink,” repeated Hermione.

Caine conjured a jar and levitated the Stem stylus and inkwell inside of it. When he flicked his wand to open the inkwell, the ink splashed out, no matter the gentleness of the way it was opened and the dark liquid began to bubble and emit dark smoke.

“How did that get there?” asked Charlie.

“This isn’t the first time, too,” said Hermione, taking Lumi and wrapping her arms around the little one protectively. “Sir, it was an envelope before, remember?”

Caine nodded.

“I thought everything was filtered and screened,” said Avienne, standing up and backing away from the boiling and bubbling curse inside the jar.

“They are,” said Caine gravely, “which is why this is in my stylus.” He looked at Hermione and Charlie. “Are you sure those whom you’ve told about Lumi can be trusted?”

“Absolutely,” said Hermione without hesitation.

“Without a doubt, sir,” seconded Charlie.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” said Caine and eyed the bubbling, smoking mess. “This means we have someone in the Reserve we cannot trust.”


	32. Start Talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people! It's that time. The Slytherins and their friends need to find out about our triad.Let's see what happens ;)

The stadium roared into chants of “WOOD! WOOD! WOOD!” as Oliver managed to block the twenty-second attempt of the Caerphilly Catapults to score. Hermione was screaming to the top of her lungs as she, Charlie, Harry, the Weasleys and their friends gathered at the top box, absolutely ecstatic of how the game was playing out. It had been two hours since the game has begun and Puddlemere United was in the lead two hundred and ten to eighty. Illium had spotted the Snitch several times, but the Catapults’ Seeker, Veronica Blythe, was making him work for it. They had tied on multiple occasions but just as one or the other was about to catch the Snitch, it would speed into another direction and disappear again. Even Harry and Charlie were having trouble following it.

“Would you ever switch to this for a living?” Hermione asked her fiery-haired Fated.

Charlie smirked. “Looking to see if you’d still date me if I were a Quidditch player?” he teased.

“Oh, I definitely would not date you if you were a Quidditch player,” said Hermione.

“Excuse you. Why not?”

“Because your head would be as big as Damian’s, for sure.”

Charlie pinched her side, making her scream, just as Damian flew past above them and towards the enemy’s base. He dropped the Quaffle to Logan, who rocketed up and threw the Quaffle into the left hoop. The Catapults’ Keeper did not even know what hit him.

Once again, the opposing Chasers sped towards Oliver’s posts. The Scot had his concentrating brooding face on, which was making Hermione giddy. The Chaser threw the Quaffle up and his teammate caught it in midair, hurling it towards the middle post – and there Oliver was, kicking the Quaffle away! The third Catapults’ Chaser came out of nowhere, retrieved the Quaffle and went for the right hoop – Oliver punched it away to the delighted screams of Puddlemere fans!

“Well done, Oliver! You got this!” shouted Hermione, echoed by Molly, Pansy, Mandy and Fleur.

Suddenly, Illium was diving! Blythe came in hot on his tail. Illium extended his hand out and Blythe leaned down on her broom in order to surpass him. When she did, Illium pulled up unexpectedly and bolted it to the other side of the pitch. He dodged a Bludger, which Keon sent back to the Catapults’ Beater, and caught the Snitch!

“And _that_ , witches and wizards,” said the commentator, “is the _best_ use of the Wronski Feint I have seen this season! Puddlemere takes the win!”

The fireworks exploded in the sky as shouts and cheers rattled the place. The team zoomed around the pitch and Oliver threw Hermione a wink.

“Everyone, turn around!” called Mandy.

When they did, a flash went out.

“Again, again!” shouted Dean and levitated champagne flutes to everyone.

Mandy gave the camera to a house-elf and joined them. “Everyone say cheers!”

“CHEERS!”

The flash went off.

Hermione groaned as she drifted into consciousness. Her head ached and she tried to remember what happened the night before. She remembered laughing _a lot_. There was loud, thumping music and flashing lights. Oh right, they were at Grimmauld Place celebrating Puddlemere’s win and Harry’s housewarming. Dean and Seamus did an amazing set up with spotlights and strobe lights and music down at the basement. She remembered partying in a gorgeous, short and tight dress with her lace stockings on that almost gave Charlie a heart attack, and dancing all night with her friends and family, with Charlie, and Oliver crashing the party with Puddlemere United in tow.

Presently, as she lay on her right side, she felt a heavy weight behind her and across her waist and Hermione wondered if Luminaria came in again last night. Come to think of it, the pillow she used to snuggle with was never this hard. Sluggishly, Hermione opened her eyes and saw Oliver on his back, sleeping peacefully in front of her. She looked down and, true enough, she was touching his abdomen. Dear Merlin, why was the man shirtless?

A meaty arm that was clearly not Oliver’s was slung across Hermione’s waist and she looked behind her and saw Charlie’s red mane and Sorin’s sleeping form on his bicep. He, too, was shirtless. Hermione looked down at herself. She was _not_ shirtless. Good. But her dress had ridden up and her knickers, garter belt and stockings were exposed. Not so good.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione looked at her surroundings. They were in Charlie’s cottage. From what she could see through the window, it was still grey and light outside. Not quite sunrise then.

Hermione relaxed into the bed. Just then, Oliver moved and flung his arm over her. She was now face to face with him. It was too much to resist. Hermione kissed the tip of his nose and slowly made her way across his cheekbone and down to his lips where she let her kisses linger until she felt Oliver respond. Before long, he was running his fingers up and down her back.

“Morning,” whispered Oliver, leisurely opening those sleepy yet gorgeous green eyes.

“Good morning to you, too,” responded Hermione.

“What time is it?”

“No idea.” Hermione kissed down his jaw to his neck and Oliver gladly gave her access. “How did we get here by the way?”

“Um…” said Oliver. “Well – um – Charlie and a – we – huh. Hmm…”

Hermione chuckled and bit his neck a little. “What was that?”

“Lass, hoo dae ye expect me tae think straight with ye doin’ tha’ this early in the bloody morning?”

She giggled again when she felt Charlie move behind her. The next thing Hermione knew, she was being pulled back and kisses were raining down at the back of her neck and towards her shoulder.

“What has she done now?” Charlie asked groggily.

“Expect me tae answer questions,” said Oliver.

“Sounds easy enough,” said Charlie.

“Nae when she’s kissing me everywhere.”

“Hmm… that does make things more difficult.”

Hermione giggled and Charlie pushed himself up by his elbow and captured her lips in a lazy, languid kiss, his hand caressing her stomach beneath her dress, which was now bunched around her waist. Meanwhile, Oliver seemed to have decided to enact some revenge by kissing and biting her neck like his life depended on it, hitching her leg up to his waist as he squeezed and caressed her stocking-clad limb.

Hermione was slowly being overwhelmed. The sensations they were giving her made her crave for more. Made her crave for something else that she could not quite tell until she _felt_ _them_. She felt Charlie from behind her and Oliver in front of her and a part of her was prudishly scandalized that she lay between two men, feeling the evidence of their attraction, or perhaps just their body’s natural response upon waking. Still.

However, what came as a surprise to Hermione was the part of her that felt pride. Because sure, maybe this was simply a morning response, or maybe _she_ had something to do with it.

Reaching behind her, Hermione ran her fingernails down Charlie’s scalp then pulled him closer, deepening their kiss even as she pushed her chest out towards Oliver and moaned. She knew what her moans did to them. Now she wondered how they might respond.

Charlie grinded himself onto her while Oliver kneaded her breast, biting and nipping at her shoulder and neck. Hermione pushed herself onto both her Fated, wanting more, needing more –

There was someone knocking on the door downstairs.

The three ignored it and Hermione broke her kiss with Charlie to give more attention to Oliver, who took his chance and kissed her lips, hard.

Charlie ran his hand down his Fated’s back and squeezed her bottom, humming deep in his chest that she could feel it rumble. Then he pushed Hermione’s hair to the side and began to trail kisses down her back.

There was a louder knock on the door.

Oliver grabbed her hip and pushed his hardness onto her just as Charlie cupped and squeezed her breast. Hermione had to break the kiss as a loud moan left her lips. She was drowning in sensation –

There was a pounding on the door.

“Fucking hell! What!” Charlie shouted.

“Hermione!” shouted a familiar voice outside.

“I’m going to fucking kill Blaise,” Hermione murmured, circling her hips onto Oliver.

“Ye dae tha’, love,” panted the Scot.

“Hermione!” shouted Blaise again. “Draco’s apartment was set on fire!”

That halted everything.

Hermione immediately rolled to the other side of Charlie on her left and ran downstairs, pulling her dress down and trying desperately to fix her hair to no avail. She bumped onto Charlie’s couch, but no matter, she hurriedly opened the door. “What the hell did you say?”

Blaise came in uninvited and began to pace in front of the fireplace. He looked pissed off, which was a first for the Slytherin. Hermione had seen him laughing, teasing, appalled, shocked, excited once, but he was usually smirking, stoic or bored. Now though, his jaw was clenched tightly and his dark eyes could kill. “I’ve been flooing you!” he said to Hermione, annoyed. “What the hell took you so long?”

“Er… how did you find me?”

“You and Charlie eat breakfast together, right?”

“Right.”

Blaise glanced at the empty kitchen and paused. He took to account Hermione’s crumpled clothing from last night’s party, her puffed lips and her messier-than-usual hair, and his expression turned slightly shocked. “Damn, I thought you and Wood were a thing.”

“We are…”

“So you and Charlie are what?”

“Also a thing,” said Charlie, coming down the stairs with Oliver behind him. He chose to remain shirtless and so, Hermione’s name as well as his Fated dragon tattoos were in full view. Oliver also chose to remain shirtless and also had Hermione’s name as well as his landscape tattoos in full view.

“Oh, fuck Salazar’s bastardly bloody bollocks,” said Blaise, needing to sit down at the revelation. “A triad? A _Fated_ triad?”

“Little bit,” said Hermione and sat down opposite him. “So what happened, Blaise?”

“What happened?! You’re fucking Fated!”

“Don’t yell at my Fated in my house,” said Charlie commandingly.

Blaise immediately put his hands up. “My apologies. My apologies. But, shit, Hermione, this is huge!”

Hermione nodded and, once Oliver sat down beside her, placed her head on his shoulder. The Scot wrapped his arm around her and held her hand.

“What happened tae Draco?” asked Oliver.

That seemed to bring Blaise back to his other problem. “He’s been receiving threats for months now,” he said. “Early this morning, someone set his apartment on fire. While a simple fire could have been an accident, the fact that anti-apparition wards were put up definitely made this wizard-related.”

“Someone tried to kill him,” said Charlie, shocked.

Hermione clutched her chest. “Is he okay?”

“He’s with Pansy in Grimmauld Place,” said Blaise. Hermione did not miss the fact that he did not answer the question. “As soon as you’re ready, I’m going to bring you there.”

Hermione looked at Oliver, who nodded, and Charlie, who did the same.

“We’re coming with you,” said the redhead.

A Sober-Up potion, a quick shower and a change of clothing later, the four of them were calling out Grimmauld Place from Hermione’s floo and exiting at the house they were in the night before, which was unrecognizable.

The black wooden floorboards, dark walls and heavy curtains of the old living room had been turned into light wooden floorboards and relaxing, off-white walls with huge white-framed windows, where sheer white curtains moved with the wind. Instead of dark, mouldy couches, a white couch and beige armchairs were placed with many fluffy pillows. Instead of dark and black furnishings and a fireplace that had thick grime and soot damage, there were built-in shelves that helped maximize the space and there was a wall feature of bricks with varying shades of grey and brown where the fireplace was set. Most importantly, a portrait of young Sirius, Remus, James and Lily that Harry had commissioned hung over that wall. It was done without magic and they were forever smiling in the painting, immortalized in the day of James and Lily’s wedding.

No one was there the moment the four entered, and so they rushed to the kitchen and dining area. Harry had completely demolished the wall that separated the two previously. Now it was open planned and flowed together. The cherry wooden floorboards made the kitchen and dining gorgeous. There were wooden beams on the ceiling for the sake of structural integrity, but Harry kept with the clean white theme with glass cabinets in white wooden frames and white marble kitchen benches extending to a breakfast bar that had back-supported wooden stools. The refrigerator, two stoves, two ovens and the professional coffee machine Harry purchased were stainless steel. Meanwhile, the kitchen table was a gorgeous oak with turquois resin shined to perfection and paired with plush beige chairs. Currently, Pansy, Draco, Seamus, Dean and Theo were sitting around it with strong coffees in their hands.

“Hey, what the hell happened?” asked Hermione as she made her way to Draco who was sitting on the head of the table near the wall. To her surprise, Draco seemed no moodier than normal as she kissed his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, fine, why?” asked the blonde.

Pansy rolled her eyes. How she managed to look demure and classy this early in the morning, Hermione would never know. She only managed to throw on her high waist black denim Capri pants and cropped long sleeves, meanwhile, Pansy had perfectly winged eyeliner and gorgeous red lips to go with her mid-shin white polka-dotted black pencil skirt dress with bishop sleeves. Hermione’s hair was up in a ponytail because she was in a rush, while Pansy had hers classically styled in set-curls. “Draco, for Salazar’s sake, your apartment was just burned down,” she said.

“Oh, that, well, yes.” Draco sipped his coffee. “Bit of an inconvenience, really.”

“That’s how he keeps describing it,” said Seamus, shaking his head unbelievably.

“Inconvenience? You could have died!” said Hermione, sitting opposite Pansy and beside Seamus, with Dean next to him. “Where’s Harry?”

“Gone to the DMLE,” said Theo in a drawl. He was sitting opposite Draco. “ _Someone_ had to report it.”

Hermione looked at Draco with fire in her eyes. “You _did not_ report it?”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. Hermione hit him at the back of the head. Dean chuckled, entertained.

“Ah! Charlie, control your witch!” said Draco, holding the back of his head.

“She’s with Oliver, stupid,” said Theo.

“Well…” said Blaise insinuatingly, leaning back on his chair between Dean and Theo. Hermione pointed her wand at him and he was suddenly jumping up clutching his bottom. “Ow! Mother-fucking son of a bastard’s whore!”

Dean and Seamus were rolling in the back of their seats laughing.

“But are you all right?” asked Hermione to Draco.

“I’m fine. Why do you keep asking that?” responded the blonde.

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and huffed before going to the kitchen. “Pyro, help me with the coffee machine!” she called. Merlin, help her, or she would start drinking stronger stuff before seven in the bloody morning.

Seamus obliged and showed her what to do, while Oliver and Charlie finally took their seats on the other side of the table beside Pansy.

“Can anything be salvaged from the apartment?” asked Charlie.

“No,” answered Draco. “All I have is the clothes on my back and my wand.” He gave them a tight smile and lifted his coffee cup before draining it. “Pyro, make me another one, will you?”

“Why are ye in a suit, by the way?” asked Oliver.

“He sleeps in one,” said Dean with a smirk and lazily blocked the hex Draco threw his way.

“I was with Blaise and those two nincompoops,” said Draco, pointing at Dean and Seamus. “We were out and about in Muggle London. By the time I got home, it was in flames.”

“Am sorry, mate,” said Oliver.

“Blaise mentioned something about anti-apparition wards?” asked Charlie.

The boys nodded.

“We were supposed to crash at Draco’s,” said Dean. “It was the closest to the club we went to, but instead of appearing straight in his apartment, we showed up about a block away.”

“Just the fact that the firemen were having a difficult time putting the fire out,” said Blaise, “makes us think it was Fiendfyre, but of course, that’s theory at this stage.”

“The Ministry had already sent people in a few minutes after we’ve shown up,” said Draco. “They interviewed me and these arses thought it was a good idea to go to Scar-head’s.” He smirked at Hermione. “So you see, I technically did _not_ need to report it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she and Seamus joined them once again with Seamus levitating the drinks for her, insisting on being a gentleman. He made one land in front of Blaise, Draco, Charlie, and Oliver, while two landed in front of Hermione, who retook her seat.

“Coffee black for Charlie and mocha for Oliver,” said Seamus, “as per the lady’s instruction. Blondie, I’m pulling you down to a macchiato and a cappuccino for Dress Robes.”

“What about me?” asked Dean.

“That’s your third red eye, Tech,” said Pansy harshly. “Unless you plan to stay awake for the next week, I’m cutting you off!”

Dean raised his hands up. “Fine. Take it easy, Snarky. Damn.”

“What did Hermione get?” asked Oliver.

“Double espresso,” said Seamus.

“Whoa.” Charlie looked at Hermione with wide eyes. “Why?”

“I need it,” said Hermione. “If I give up drinking strong coffee in the morning, I’d have to take up murdering, and that’s just cumbersome.”

“I’ve never been more proud of you,” said Pansy.

“Thank you,” said Hermione and sipped her coffee happily.

“And why two cups?” asked Charlie.

Just then, the front door opened and shut. A few seconds later, Harry’s messy head of hair and yet-again-cracked glasses showed up. “Ah, good, you’re all here,” he said. He went straight for Hermione and kissed her cheek before drinking the extra cup of coffee. Hermione non-verbally repaired his glasses and smiled at Charlie. Meanwhile, from the kitchen, Hermione could see Kreacher’s head just above the marble countertop as he started to cook breakfast.

Harry pulled out a stool and sat beside Hermione instead of taking the seat between Theo and Charlie. “You were right,” he said to Draco. “It was Fiendfyre, but controlled. Your apartment was not the initial target. It was the apartment two floors above yours, which means the wards you’ve set up are working and they could not pinpoint where you were staying, so they decided to torch the whole place down.”

“Any injuries? Deaths?” asked Dean.

Harry nodded. “Not everyone made it out. Seventeen muggles passed in the fire. Twenty-two are injured. Both St. Mungo’s and the Ministry are helping out.”

The group bowed their heads respectively.

“Are there any leads so far?” asked Charlie.

“The answer’s quite obvious, isn’t it?” asked Draco. “My parents, my aunt, my uncles. Anyone of them could have done it.”

“Was there a Dark Mark on top of the building?” asked Hermione.

“None,” said Harry. “And, I’m sorry, Ferret, but that rules out your family.”

“Only because I didn’t _die_ in it,” the blond responded with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ve always found that they were the ‘put the symbol up first, do the deed next’ kind of people,” said Harry casually. “Based on experience, I mean.” He sipped his coffee.

“Yes, but you’re forgetting,” said Draco, just as nonchalantly, “that in the incidences that I think you mean, deaths _have_ occurred because they have been _guaranteed_. My non-death mishap was an anomaly.”

“Yes, but they did not know that,” said Harry. “For all they knew you were in your apartment, sleeping, and yes, the anti-apparition wards have been placed _and_ your floo blocked. There was no way for them to not know you would live. Therefore, they would have put the Dark Mark, thinking it was a guarantee. The fact that the Mark was not present means it was not them and they remain innocent… of this one crime.”

“Damn,” said Draco. “Or perhaps it was them, but they did not want to announce that it was?”

“Sorry, Ferret,” said Dean. “Your parents are not trying to kill you.”

Draco sighed and muttered, “Salazar, I’m beginning to doubt their commitment.”

Charlie and Oliver were looking at the wizards, no doubt perplexed at how casually they talked about filicide and attempted murder.

“So what now?” asked Theo.

“The Investigation Department are doing their job,” said Harry. “Understatement, we’re also looking into the threats you’ve received. Hopefully, it would not need to get to this stage.”

“Hoo is tha’ an understatement?” asked Oliver.

“He’s talking to me,” said Theo and turned to Harry. “Appreciate it, Scar-head.”

“Were there any other threats, Ferret?” asked Hermione.

Draco shook his head and Pansy rolled her eyes.

“He’s been receiving them in the hospital as well,” she said. “And Theo has been getting jinxes, hexes and curses in the mail.”

Draco and Theo groaned.

“What? This is important!” said Pansy.

Hermione sent a shocking hex to both Draco and Theo and they both yelped. “She’s trying to help you, morons!”

“Why?” questioned Theo.

“Because I care about you two, you enormously stubborn pain in my arse!” said Pansy.

Theo scrunched up his nose. “Goodness, if you say that again, I might stab you with a rusty knife.”

“Is your friendship always so violent?” asked Charlie.

“How else are we supposed to show we tolerate each other?” asked Draco. “With kindness?”

“Quit it,” said Blaise. “If Snarky or Princess roll their eyes any further, they’d see their brains.”

“Harry, the threats need looking into,” said Hermione, getting them back on track.

“Definitely,” said her brother. “Understatement, what do you get?”

“Enough to inconvenience me, not enough to do serious harm,” said Theo.

“The last time you said that,” said Pansy, “someone sent you a flesh-rotting curse!”

“Yes, well, I did say it’s enough to inconvenience me,” said Theo and sipped his drink.

“Oh, ‘understatement’,” said Oliver. “A get it noo.”

“That falls under the category of ‘enough to do serious harm’, you eejit!” said Seamus.

“Only if you’re a moron who opens their parcels and letters without screening it first,” said Theo.

“I’m too sober to listen to this,” said Hermione, massaging her temple.

“You and me both,” said Harry. “Listen, knuckle-heads, if you’ve received anything you do not want your friends to accidentally open, I need to know about it.”

Both Draco and Theo reluctantly nodded.

“Don’t guilt us into being good people, Scar-head,” said Draco, offended he was made to admit that he cared about his friends.

“All right,” said Harry, rubbing his hands together. “Ferret, we’ll have to drop by St. Mungo’s and check your office. I want to see if there are any more that came. Understatement, we need to drop by your apartment as well and secure the building. Is Snaps all right?”

Theo nodded. “I told her to stay with her parents for a bit. Their house is secured. So is her office.”

“Who’s Snaps?” whispered Charlie.

“Mandy,” answered Pansy.

“Good. I still want to double check them, if that’s all right,” said Harry.

Theo shrugged. That was as much consent as he was going to give.

“Meanwhile,” said Harry, turning to Draco. “We’ll have breakfast and I want to see what your plans are.”

“I need to shop for clothes,” said Draco, looking like he was losing the will to live.

“Hermione and I can help,” said Pansy.

Draco simply frowned. That was as much consent as they were going to get.

The Black Family Library was always one of the grandest and biggest that Hermione had ever seen outside of Hogwarts and the Wood Library, which was more of a recent discovery. What used to be a dank, dangerous place was now wonderfully open and full of light. Harry had installed several bay windows and nooks throughout the library that one could comfortably read in. Not to mention the huge and comfortable sofas that looked remarkably like those in Gryffindor tower that were the main feature, other than the shelves that lined the room like a proper library.

It was there that Hermione had retreated to as Harry, Draco and Theo left to investigate the threats sent to them. Confident that she would not be harmed by whatever she touched, Hermione continued her browsing, wondering if there are anything in these books about dragons.

There were several thuds that sounded behind her and Hermione spun around to see Kreacher looking at her with surprise, the books he had piled scattered on the floor. He was the cleanest she had ever seen him, clothing and hygiene-wise, which was a good sign that meant he was happy with Harry here.

“Oh, hello, Kreacher,” said Hermione. “Here let me help you with that.”

Before she could even bend down to pick up the book that slid near her feet, Kreacher shouted, “No!”

Hermione stopped. That was strange. Sure, she had last seen him a year or so ago, before the disaster at the ministry that had forced her, Harry and Ron to going on the run, but they had gotten along well then.

“Pardon old Kreacher,” the house-elf said in his deep baritone. “Kreacher did not mean to frighten her sovereign highness.” He bowed deep and low, his hooked nose almost touching the floor.

“Oh, please don’t bow,” said Hermione. “Wait, ‘her sovereign highness’?”

“Yes,” said Kreacher, standing back up. “Kreacher sees the powerful bond the witch shares with the dragon and her two Fated. Kreacher sees the transcendence of magic that reaches far beyond. Deep magic runs in the sovereign’s veins.” He bowed once again. “Forgive Kreacher, I beg. Kreacher will never again displease her sovereign highness.”

Hermione did not know what to do. “Kreacher, please stand. I – I forgive you. I have a long time ago. And please, call me Hermione.”

The house-elf looked up at her with tears brimming in his eyes. “Kreacher is honoured.” He extended his hand towards Hermione, palm up, and she gave her hand to him. Kreacher patted the back of her hand reverently. “If there is anything Kreacher can do,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion, “please do not hesitate.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Is there any book in this library that will help me understand my role better?” she asked. “Maybe even about dragons?”

The house-elf’s eyes widened at the prospect of being able to help and with a snap of his fingers, three books of varying sizes appeared, levitating beside Hermione. “The Queen of Dragons rule over all, Miss Hermione,” he said. With another bow, he and his books were gone.

“What was that?”

Hermione looked up and saw Charlie making his way to her. She shook her head. “I don’t know. He has never treated me like that before.” She looked at the books that hovered beside her. The thickest tome was called _Ancient Dragons and Their Descendants_. The second was called _Dragon Riders: Accomplishments and Defeat_. The thinnest of the lot was called _The Sacrifice of the Timeless: Why Dragon Magic is Restricted_. Opening her beaded bag, Hermione pushed the books in. She heard a clutter and frowned. She would need to organize her bag again. Closing it again, Hermione looked up in time to see Charlie shaking his head with a smile. “What?”

“Your magic never ceases to amaze me,” he said, leaning his forearm up a shelf. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing much, just browsing,” she responded and wrapped her arms around his waist, under his open flannel.

“Hmm…”

Hermione loved when he made that sound. She rose up to the tips of her toes to kiss him and came back down. “I’m wondering,” she said, “if the power of the power of the Queen goes beyond that of the dragons.”

“What do you mean?” asked Charlie. His other hand was slowly slithering up Hermione’s back, his fingertips dancing on her skin under her cropped top. Hermione was certain her tattoo was glowing.

“Just what Kreacher said and how he treated me.”

“That would definitely be worth looking into. So far, have you had any other weird encounters?”

Hermione shook her head. “Then again, I haven’t really gone anywhere.”

“What about the house-elves in Oliver’s home?”

Again, Hermione shook her head. “I’ve met Lattie after the New Year when we talked to Eleonora about the Viking’s Throne, but she did not really do or say anything.”

Charlie looked thoughtful. “Maybe because Eleonora told her not to, in case it freaked you out.”

“How would she know?”

“Well, she’s a Seer and a Ligilimens, so she prob –”

“She’s a what?”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “She’s a Seer and a Ligilimens, a natural Legilimens.”

“Oh crap. That’s why she was so understanding of me the other day when I – oh Merlin.” Hermione buried her face on his chest.

Charlie chuckled and kissed her temple. “So now she knows how much you care for Oliver. What mother wouldn’t want her son’s Fated not to care about him?”

She looked up at him. “You don’t think that was embarrassing?”

“Why would it be, Mia?” He touched her cheek tenderly.

Hermione leaned into his touch. “A dinnae ken. Shouldn’t these things remain private?”

“Not necessarily, though there is nothing bad about wanting privacy. I do get where you’re coming from since everyone you’ve previously known has exploited anything there is to do with your life, but not everyone will do that. We can be just like this in front of those who know us should we so choose. We can show them we care about each other. We can trust them with that.”

Hermione thought about it. Ever since she started to notice boys, she had been teased at the least, exploited to public scorn and criticism at the worst. Maybe that was why she was hesitant to talk to her friends about this, but Pansy had known and she still has neither pushed Hermione into telling her more nor divulged the secret to anyone else. Blaise teased, but dropped it immediately. And Hermione was sure he was only doing it to get a blush out of her.

Charlie kissed her forehead. “Sickle for your thoughts?”

Hermione smiled. “I think I just figured out why I’m hesitating to talk to them about us.”

Charlie simply nodded. “Like Oliver and I said, Mia, we go by your pace. There’s no rush here.”

Going up to her tiptoes again, Hermione kissed her Fated. Charlie was always good at helping her figure out things. He calmed her, helped her be collected enough to think clearly. And there was something about him that simply poured out wisdom.

Flooding Hermione’s thoughts were the times that Charlie had soothed her in her moments of panic and centred her in the moments where the information she was receiving was overwhelming her, and it made Hermione appreciate her Fated all the more. It made her fall for him that much more. Charlie was her earth, her grounding magic. No matter the waves that threatened to crash over her, Charlie was the solid ground that would not give way but continually hold her up.

Hermione ran her nails down his back and Charlie grunted lowly, biting her lip as he did. She could feel his muscles under her hands and wished that she could take his shirt off. Before Hermione knew it, she was being hoisted up and she wrapped her legs around Charlie’s waist as he held her up with one hand on her bottom and leaned her onto the shelf. His other hand dove up her shirt and kneaded her breast. Hermione tried to supress a moan and bit his lip instead. She steadied herself by holding onto his muscled shoulders and drove him crazy by pulling on his hair.

“Hermione, there’s this book on Fiendfyre that I thought you should – _oh shit!_ ” Dean quickly backed away as Charlie and Hermione parted and turned to him. “Sorry. Sorry – I didn’t see anything. I swear!” He literally ran out the door.

“Well, now three of them know,” said Charlie and looked at Hermione with amusement in his eyes.

Hermione was glad he was amused. She was getting annoyed at being interrupted. Then she thought about that for a second. Was she ready for that? Was she ready to take things further with her Fated?

Charlie kissed her forehead. “Sickle for your thoughts?” he asked again.

Hermione simply looked at him, her red-haired Fated. When did she fall for him, she wondered? “Somewhere in between,” she muttered, remembering how Charlie had asked her for a chance to show her how he felt.

“Hmm?”

Hermione pushed several locks of hair away that had fallen to his face because of her doing. “Just wondering when I fell for you,” she said softly. “Somewhere in between.” She smiled and Charlie’s eyes softened. “Somewhere between you being my rock and you being my comfort… Somewhere between you being my mentor and my help-mate… Somewhere between us being dragon keepers to co-parenting two newborns…” She looked at his amazing sky blue and azure eyes. “Damn it, Charlie, you never cease to amaze me.”

The redhead kissed her again, gently this time, leisurely, like he was studying the curves of her lips. He kissed her like they had all the time in the world to learn how she tasted. It was the kind of kiss that made Hermione’s toes curl. And when they parted, Charlie’s eyes were dark. She was his and she would never forget it.

Noon came and still no word was heard from Harry, Draco and Theo. Hermione decided to get a start on her new reading material, seeing as the boys downstairs in the living room were talking about Quidditch and Pansy was “doing research” by asking Oliver questions about his teammates. If Hermione did not know her well enough, she would be proud of Pansy’s increasing interest in the sport. However, she did know her well, and for the Slytherin, this was merely like shopping.

Hermione opened _Ancient Dragons and Their Descendants_ and began to read. She did not know how long she had been at it, when a couple of illustrations caught her eye. She had seen the dragons on these yellowed pages, albeit some features have evolved over time, yet still she was sure these were the ancestors of the Common Welsh Green.

**_ The Minstrel Dragons _ **

_The Minstrel of Dragons is not the biggest and most muscular breed, but they are definitely the most amiable and notoriously sought after. Unlike any other dragon, the Minstrels are gifted with both Foresight and Prophecy. Their songs are known to inspire an army, uplift a nation and spread dread into the hearts of foes. This is because the Minstrels’ songs are imbued with the magic of the dragon that sings it, which means the stronger the dragon, the more powerful the song._

_It is said that the Minstrels base their songs from the things they see in their visions. Whether this is true or not, no one would confirm. The Minstrels hold their place beside the King and Queen Riders to sing and prophesy their legend and announce their reign, therefore, they are considered highly sacred. In addition, due to the gentle manner and fierce protectiveness of the dragons, they are most trusted to tend and help nurture the younglings – from babies and toddlers to children and young adults. It is said that the ones who do not leave the presence of the Minstrels often catch their gifts as well, as often bestowed by the Minstrel Dragon themselves to whomever they see fit._

A Scot in desperate need of attention interrupted Hermione’s reading. He had lain down on the couch and literally placed his head on top of her book.

“Oliver!”

“Have mercy, love. Am dangerously bored!” he cried, making Hermione laugh.

“Fine.” She put her book back into her beaded bag, afraid she might forget if she placed it anywhere else, and ran her fingers through the curly hair of her Fated. “Happy?”

Oliver looked like the perfect picture of contentment, lying with his head on her lap. “Aye. By the way, a’ve got a gift fer ye.”

Hermione accepted the photograph he took from his pocket and laughed immediately upon seeing Damian’s hair spiking up in shock as he touched Oliver’s InstaChat Notebook, his left eyebrow blazing up and disappearing like a wick of a firework.

Oliver laughed as well. “Am a the best boyfriend or am a the best boyfriend?”

“You’re the best boyfriend,” chuckled Hermione, planting three kisses on him.

“Are ye gaunnae have it framed?”

“Oh, I am very much considering it.”

“There should be gold trimmings on tha’ frame –”

“I _knew_ it!” a voice suddenly exclaimed, causing Hermione and Oliver to look towards the door of the library. They caught sight of Theo’s smirking face before the Slytherin made for the stairs, shouting, “Ferret, you owe me five galleons!”

“Shite!” chorused Hermione and Oliver and they both bolted out of the library and down the stairs. They ran into the living room in time to see Dean and Theo arguing in the middle of the room.

“No, she’s with Charlie!” said Dean, who was evidently defending a whiskey-drinking Draco, who was slumped at an armchair.

“She most definitely is not,” said Theo.

“I saw her kissing _Charlie_ in the library,” said Dean smugly.

Theo smirked. “Well, I saw her kissing _Oliver_ in the library. Just now.”

“Oh shit,” said Hermione and all eyes turned towards her and Oliver.

Pansy was on the couch with Blaise, ecstatic.

“What’s going on?” asked Charlie, who just walked in with Harry behind him.

“Exactly what I want to know,” said Dean. By the look of him, he was not very happy. Understandable, considering in his eyes, Hermione had gone through this same ‘situation’ with Ron and should not be getting into it again, with her ex-boyfriend’s brother, nonetheless.

“I can explain,” said Hermione.

“They’re a triad!” said Pansy with a delighted squeal.

“What?!” said Dean, obviously appalled. Meanwhile, standing by the whiskey decanter, Seamus looked torn. On one hand, he seemed surprise, but once Hermione explained, especially about the Fated situation, she knew he would be understanding. On the other, he seemed very concerned about Dean’s reaction.

“Not helping, Pans,” said Hermione and looked at her Housemate. “I can explain.”

“Then start,” said Dean, his tone hard.

“Wizarding and Muggle perspective on relationships are not the same, Dean,” said Hermione. “Here, it is perfectly acceptable –”

“He’s Ron’s brother, Hermione!”

“I know that! I know…” Hermione swallowed. “Do you know about the Fated?”

Gasps echoed in the room. Draco had sat bolt upright from the armchair, Pansy had one hand over her open mouth and the other over her heart, Seamus had dropped a glass and Theo had stumbled back in disbelief. Hermione knew that all of them were in one accord that her kind of Fated was the third kind and that they knew the heaviness and the seriousness of the situation. She also knew they would treat it with absolute reverence.

“What?” asked Dean as he looked around at his friends.

“It was never really taught to us,” said Hermione, taking a step closer to him. “But to Purebloods and Half-Bloods, this kind of old and sacred magic was taught at home. Fated is what destined people are called. Like soul mates, but it’s more ancient, respected and somewhat rare.”

“Mandy and I are Fated,” said Theo, lifting his trouser leg and showing them his left knee. Across it was the infinity symbol, tattooed in silver, like many moving sands that danced around, and in front of it was Mandy’s name. “I’ve known from the moment I was born. I was hers.”

Hermione lifted up her sleeve and showed them all her tattoo with Oliver’s name written in bold before she turned around and moved her shirt down and her hair to the side to show them all Charlie’s name.

Charlie and Oliver moved as one and showed their tattoos as well.

There were sharp intakes of breaths and heavy, shocked sighs.

“Is it – is it different to each individual?” asked Dean.

Hermione nodded. “There are three kinds,” she told him. “The first is Theo and Mandy’s where they have known since birth who they are supposed to be with. They always have an infinity symbol and they’re pretty rare. It starts as silver, but once the bond is closed, it turns gold. Like mum and dad’s.”

“By ‘mum and dad’ you mean Arthur and Molly?”

Hermione nodded again. “The second is like Bill and Fleur’s where they know from the moment they _met_ that they are meant to be with each other. The tattoo is a vine that starts to bloom with flowers when the bond is closed. It’s the most common of the three.” She took a deep breath. “The third is our kind, the rarest of the three.” She swallowed, carefully gauging Dean’s reaction. “It is where Magic herself chooses a path for us, and should we choose to take that path and each other, then and only then will the tattoos appear. The images are different for each pair.” Hermione took a few more careful steps closer to Dean and reached for his hand. Thank Merlin he did not flinch away from her but allowed her to hold him. “I chose them and they chose me. And I know this is not what we’re used to and it’s not how we’re raised, but… this is our choice. And I hope you’ll be okay with that.”

Dean took a deep breath and looked at both Charlie and Oliver before settling his eyes on Harry, reading his reaction. Harry smiled as he walked towards the two of them, stopping to stand beside his sister.

“I gave them my blessing the day the tattoos showed up,” he said. “They told us and the family about it almost immediately.”

“When did it show up?” asked Pansy.

“Mid-January,” said Charlie.

“And the catalyst?” asked Draco.

Hermione closed her eyes to try and ground herself. She was having difficulty breathing again. She reminded herself of what Charlie said earlier. These were her friends. They would not exploit her. They would not reject her. But what if… what if…

She felt a squeeze on her hand and opened her eyes to see Dean’s gaze soften on her. She squeezed his hand right back, relieved, before pulling her shirt off of her right shoulder to reveal her tattoo. “I have to tell you about my dragon.”

***

Telling Hermione’s friends about their relationship was more nerve-wracking than telling their families. Charlie understood. Dean was a Muggleborn, just like Hermione, and was raised up with different social views and beliefs. Truth be told, he was surprised when Hermione took everything well. Then again, she was already talking to her friends about it, gathering information, getting advice from the twins, not to mention the research she, Avienne, Memphis and Adrian had been doing. Dean did not know, or have, any of that.

As Hermione told them the story of Luminaria, the summarized version of it, at least, Charlie watched.

Pansy was enthralled. He never knew she had a non-angry reaction to anything. Blaise was standing with Theo, smirking the whole time while. Theo and Draco kept their faces neutral, though Charlie could clearly see the twinkle in their eyes and the occasional pull of a smile. Seamus was a mixture of disbelief and concern, which Charlie could only assume came from Dean’s reaction. Harry was watching, just like Charlie was, but upon the mention of what happened with Kreacher earlier, he sat straighter.

“What does he mean by that?” the bespectacled wizard asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” said Hermione. “It’ll be another one to put on the list to research, I guess.” She looked back at her friend.

Dean had a thoughtful expression on his face as he sat on the centre table opposite Hermione. Charlie supposed, though, that it was a good sign that he remained holding hands with her. It would give her comfort, nonetheless, and Charlie could see how much the dark-skinned Gryffindor still cared for Hermione despite all this. For that, he was grateful.

“Penny for your thoughts?” said Hermione.

Dean sighed. “It’s a lot to take in, but… are you happy?”

Hermione smiled. “Yes.”

He nodded. “Then I’m happy.”

Hermione hugged him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

When they parted, Pansy stood up.

“That’s wonderful. That’s just great,” said the Slytherin and pulled Hermione up. “Now why don’t you go play in the library or something?”

“What? Why?” asked Hermione.

“We are going to talk to those two.” She pointed a wiggling finger between Charlie and Oliver.

Hermione chuckled in disbelief. “They’re my Fated, Snarky. They’re not –”

“Go, Golden Girl, or so help me, I will send them the same love notes I’ve been sending the spineless Weasel until the day they die.” Pansy crossed her arms challengingly.

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione dragged Harry and walked away.

“Why do I have to go?” protested Harry.

“You’ve already done your talk-whatever with them,” said Hermione and left with him.

“Wonderful,” said Pansy and sat on the centre table beside Dean with her legs crossed.

Charlie and Oliver looked at each other. There were three Slytherins in the room with two Gryffindors infamous for blowing things up at Hogwarts. They all had their eyes on the two of them. Charlie braced himself.

“Okay, a knoo what yer gaunnae say,” started Oliver.

“No, you don’t, so shut up,” said Pansy. “Hermione is still finding herself. She is a lot more confident now and she has accepted her body and dealt with her issues, which is great, but this power and responsibility is new to her. And when Hermione Granger is dealing with something new, she will be confident for a while, until the first big blow hits.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned towards the two with ferocity in her eyes. “The media knowing about you three is a _big_ blow.”

“Wan tha’ we will handle when the time comes,” said Oliver and Charlie nodded.

“Wrong!” said Pansy. “You do not wait for the fight to come to you. You do a pre-emptive strike. You do not wait for them to drag her name through the mud because, let’s face it, once people find out that she’s dating one of you, this will blow up in her face. You’re a famous Quidditch player and you are her spineless-vermin-of-an-ex’s brother. It will be a field day for reporters.”

Charlie and Oliver looked at each other. That was actually a good point.

“Call Mandy,” advised Draco, “and give your statements, or have a question and answer. Publish it with her as the writer. That way you can control what comes out to the public and you do it in one go.”

“That’ll at least avoid sensationalism,” said Seamus, “than if, say, Skeeter were to spot the tattoos, or have someone in the media spot her with one of you and then the other like what happened today.”

“The images are different than those of the first two,” said Dean. “Would they know it’s a Fated tattoo?”

Charlie and Oliver nodded.

“You can’t really Glamour it out,” said Charlie. “Even if you do, it only blurs the name and everybody still knows what that means.”

“Fine,” said Oliver. “We’ll talk aboot this and we’ll see hoo Hermione feels aboot it, _but_ we’re nae gaunnae push her tae dae something she’s nae comfortable with.”

“Good,” said Pansy.

“Are we done?” asked Charlie.

“No,” said Dean.

“Look, we’re not going to hurt her,” said Charlie. “We’re incapable. And we’re not going to break her trust. We’ve worked hard to earn that –”

“She drinks double espresso only when she’s dragged out of bed,” interrupted Seamus with a small smile. “If she’s the one who calls the meeting, even if it’s early morning, she’ll take ristretto. She only drinks mochaccino during lunch dates and tea is only after dinner.”

“And,” said Dean, “she’ll have butterbeer only if she’s thinking about being responsible for her friends or she has work the next morning. Otherwise, she prefers Firewhiskey or cocktails.”

“Hermione likes margarita or mojito when she’s with the girls,” said Pansy, “rum and coke when she’s with the boys, and she’ll _only_ have vodka shots or vodka martini when the twins are present. Not that she doesn’t trust these guys, but Hermione feels like she could rely on the twins to be responsible for her, even though they don’t act it outwardly. She knows they’ll never let anything happen to her.”

Charlie and Oliver looked at each other. This was not where they thought this was going, but it was somewhat touching and helpful.

“If she’s sick,” said Blaise, “or she’s not feeling well, or she’s stressed, she won’t eat. You’ll have to watch that.”

“Watch what she does with her hair, too,” said Draco. “If she’s nervous or uncertain, she’ll play with her braids or the tips of her hair, or put her hair on one shoulder.”

“Hermione fakes confidence even if she doesn’t feel it,” said Theo. “Watch her breathing. The more she holds her breath, the bigger her panic and anxiety is.”

“And expensive gifts make her uncomfortable,” said Pansy, rolling her eyes as soon as she said it. “But she likes nice views. She likes beautiful horizons and landscapes. If you take her somewhere beautiful, she’ll never forget it. She’ll treasure it forever.”

“She likes Queen, Etta James, Frank Sinatra and Aretha Franklin,” said Dean. “They’re her favourite Muggle singers.”

“She’ll tell you The Princess Bride is her favourite movie of all time,” said Seamus. “But if you watch Sister Act with her, you’ll realize that’s not really true.”

“She likes baths,” said Pansy. “Especially with the Twins’ Pamper Baskets.”

“She also secretly likes massages,” said Seamus.

“She likes Sugar Quills,” said Pansy, “and Toothflossing Stringmints and Sugared Butterfly Wings.”

“And she prefers Chocolate Wands to Liquorice Wands,” said Seamus.

“She detests Cockroach Clusters, Pepper Imps and Pink Coconut Ice with a passion,” said Blaise.

“But she’s concerned about her teeth,” said Theo with a fond smile. “So as much as she loves them, she limits eating them, which only makes her binge them whenever she does. She is _obsessed_ about her teeth.”

“She can pack a punch,” said Draco. “And if someone really pisses her off, she can be vengeful.”

“Which brings us to a close,” said Theo, his face turning dangerously calm that it reminded Charlie of Harry’s face when the latter found out about Ron’s cheating. “If you undo any of her progress, we will be an… _inconvenience_ to you.”

“We understand each other?” asked Pansy.

Charlie nodded and so did Oliver.

“Great.” She smiled like they had simply been talking about shoes.

***

To Pansy’s disappointment, Draco simply went to Twilfitt and Tattings, had his measurements taken and paid a few extra galleons to have everything done for him by that evening. However, Pansy vowed that this was not over and, if Draco’s shudder was anything to go by, Hermione was sure she would simply be whisked away to Muggle London for a shopping session sometime soon.

The good news was that Harry had invited Draco to stay at Grimmauld for as long as he wanted. There were plenty of rooms, said Harry, and he did not mind the company. If Draco inclining his head to Harry was any indication, Hermione deduced that the Slytherin was grateful.

Everyone went to the Burrow for Sunday dinner, to Molly’s delight. Apparently, most of her children were back. Mandy arrived before dinner was served and they discussed what had happened to Draco’s apartment and the threats that he and Theo had been receiving once again. Arthur and Percy were indignant, of course. Meanwhile, the twins were very helpful in the department of Ridiculous Things To Do To Arseholes. When Hermione got a headache from rolling her eyes too much, she took Pansy outside and they had a chat about anything and everything that did not include their headache-inducing set of friends.

Afterwards, Hermione and her Fated returned to Charlie’s cottage for tea, citing an early night in. To her relief, no one made any innuendos or inappropriate comments. Whether that was because her friends were showing respect for the Fate’s ancient magic or waiting for them to leave before the gossiping and the betting started, she did not want to find out. Because surely, there was betting of some kind involved.

At the moment, Hermione was lying on the couch with her feet on Charlie’s lap and her head on Oliver’s and she was playing with the tips of her hair, replaying the day’s event in her head, analysing and wondering, most probably overthinking.

“What is it?” asked Charlie.

Hermione looked at her Fated. “Nothing, just thinking.”

“Aboot?” asked Oliver.

“Everything…”

Oliver ran his hand soothingly on her hair over and over. “We wanted tae talk tae ye, actually. Pansy brought up a few good points earlier.”

Hermione looked up at him. “About?”

“Us and the media,” said Charlie. “We won’t always be able to hide our tattoos, Mia. And if what happened today happen in public and the media catches you with me and then you with Oli, things could get ugly.”

“But,” said Oliver, “if we dae a pre-emptive strike and talk tae Mandy and have an interview with pre-set questions, then we can control what comes oot and what people would knoo.”

“My concern,” said Hermione, “is that people will ask for the catalyst.”

“We dinnae have tae tell them everything, love,” said Oliver.

Hermione twirled her hair on her finger and worried her bottom lip.

Charlie reached over and ran his thumb on her lip to make her release it. “We don’t have to make a decision tonight, Mia. It was just a very good point raised earlier that we found merit in.”

“No, I see it,” said Hermione and released her hair as well. She sat up and looked at the two of them. “What do you think we should tell them, then?”

Oliver faced sideways and pulled her to his chest, encasing her in an embrace. “We tell them tha’ we are a triad and tha’ we’ve made a decision tae commit tae each other and so Fate bound us tagether.”

“As to why,” said Charlie, moving up closer, “we can tell them that we choose not to divulge this information just yet.”

Media Circus. Those were the two words that were flashing dangerously in Hermione’s mind. Yes, people would respect it. Yes, they would try to understand it. However, even if they did not answer what the catalyst was and ask for that to remain private, the speculations would come. The hounding would come. Now, for the first time in a while, she could attend Oliver’s matches and be left alone. She could walk in Diagon Alley and have coffee in Pentagon Alley and be stopped only once, if at all. If they were to publish this, she would lose that. It would be like it was after the war all over again where people would mutter and point and –

“Hermione?” called Oliver as he ran his hands up and down her arms. “Are ye a’right, love?”

Hermione shook her head. She was trying to control her breathing and focus on not getting emotionally unstable. She needed to think.

“Mia, if you don’t want to do it, it’s okay,” said Charlie. He was looking at her worriedly. “We don’t have to do it right away.”

Oliver continued to sooth her arms. “Breathe, love, breathe.”

Hermione tried to blink back tears. “I just…” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Just thinking about it gives me anxiety. There’s just so much in my plate right now, what with the research and Lumi and trying to understand what my role is in all of this. It’s just too much right now and I just can’t –”

“Hush, sweetheart, it’s all right,” soothed Charlie as he nodded his head and kissed her hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We’re sorry. We weren’t thinking about that.”

“We promised ye we’d go by your pace,” said Oliver, his brows knitted together in worry as well, “so tha’s what we’ll dae, okay? It’s a’right, love.”

Hermione tried to calm herself and focused on her breathing. She leaned her head back on Oliver’s shoulder and closed her eyes, clutched Charlie’s hand. Surely, there was no rush. It was not as if she was often out and about, anyway. She was mostly in the Reserve and whenever she went out, she was with her friends. True, Hermione would have to amend a few of her dresses and tops around the Reserve, but there was something that could easily be done about that.

At least, right here, Hermione was safe and sound between her Fated. And right now, that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback will be greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading!!


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